And Around Again-A 'Cinderella Phenomenon' Tale
by Frostedrose
Summary: Princess Lucette has been reliving the same months of her life for 10 years. Inspired by the counsel of a fairy, she tries to live out the balance needed to sustain the Crystallum—the source of magic itself—while under a curse. Will she succeed, stopping the cycle and saving the lives of her friends and family, or will she fail once more and awaken as the cycle repeats?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1. And Around Again**

Not again.

 _Please, not again._

I, Lucette Riella Briton, the Crown Princess of Angielle, force myself to take a deep breath and open my eyes to examine my surroundings. The soft morning light reveals myself alone in my own familiar room in the palace. I rise from my bed, walk over to the shelf that holds my dolls with bated breath, searching for one particular doll.

"Delora," I whispered, my eyes falling on a dark haired, unusually realistic looking doll. If Delora is here, in doll form, it has happened again.

For what seems like years, for what has actually been years to me, I have been repeating the same months of my life over and over again. There have been a few consistent events. I have been cursed by Delora, who was actually a witch that had pretended to be my doll for nearly a year, every time. My father, King Genaro Britton III, was betrayed by one or both of his advisors Sir Alcaster Leverton and Sir Mythros who then seized power and sometimes my mother Hildyr was freed from her confinement.

There had been a time when it had been my greatest desire to see my presumed dead mother alive again, but now that I knew who and what my mother was the very thought of Hildyr brings a chill to my bones. Hildyr had once been a good witch tasked with Bearing one of the crystals maintaining magic. The witches' magic was powered by the Crystallum Tenebrarum, which fed on anger, fear, and hatred but was balanced by the fairies' Crystallum Lucis which fed on love, happiness, and joy. The balance between the two kept harmony, after all there is no courage without fear or love without the potential for pain. However, Hildyr had become the very antithesis of what she should have been.

Fairies and witches had lived in harmony with both humans and each other for years before a storyteller named Grimm had spread fairytales branding all fairies as good, and all witches as evil. There had been resulting Witch Hunts in which humans had killed witches regardless of whether they were good or evil, and the Great War, which claimed many lives after the witches claimed their revenge. My mother, as the Tenebrarum Bearer and leader of the witches, had felt every witch's death and the pain of it had driven her insane. Among other deeds, Hildyr had killed the reigning king of Angielle and had forced Genaro to marry her and make her queen by threatening the life of Ophelia…the woman he loved. She had also gained one of her apprentices by, unbeknownst to him at the time, murdering his family who had not wanted her to take him. Waltz had later betrayed Hildyr, because of what my mother was trying to do to me, allowing a successful attack which most believed had resulted in Hildyr's death. However, Waltz had been unable to escape being cursed by my mother…and my mother had survived the attack.

Hildyr had taken sanctuary in the Crystallum Tenebrarum itself and can only be freed by myself as I turn eighteen, when my own magical power awakens and the Crystallum Tenebrarum begins to recognize me as its new mistress. During that brief time, before the transfer of power to myself is complete, Hildyr can be released to walk the world again. And when that has happened, sometimes the very first thing my mother does is murder my father.

My nightgown balls in my grasp as I think about what has happened before, my knuckles turning white. I cannot let it happen again. Whatever happens this time, I cannot let her mother get free. What if this is the last time I cycle through these months? What if, this time, I have to live with the results of my actions, good or bad?

I have to be perfect this time. Nearly every other time, someone that had become important to me had died. Sometimes it was my father, or Delora who had come to symbolize everything I wished my mother had been, or Parfait the current Crystallum Lucis Bearer who had become a friend and mentor. Sometimes it had been one of the cursed young men I had fallen in love with that had died, or worse. Chevalier, the flirtatious doctor who went by the name Rumpel until he dispelled enough of his curse to remember his own name. Fritzgerald Aiden Leverton, my personal knight with a ruffian of an alter-ego, the son of the traitorous Sir Alcaster Leverton. Prince Klaude Aidric Renaldi Mattheus Almonte Crown Prince of Brugantia who went by Karma and cross-dressed due to his own curse. Waltz Cresswell, who would appear as a child until I opened a magical box hidden in my own room. Even my own mute step-brother, Rod Benedikt Widdensov who used a magical plush bunny Sebby to verbalize his thoughts.

I had loved them, all of them, in their own unique ways. However, it was either in the hopelessness of a love lost or the ecstasy of a love found that my world stopped, and I returned to this very moment. I had tried one man after the other, thinking I may have to be with someone in particular or make other different choices to end this circle I was running in. During my last go around, I had confessed what was happening to Parfait and asked for advice in making it stop. The Lucis Bearer had not been convinced at first, but had come to the conclusion that I was not crazy or lying when I had started correctly predicting events before they happened with perfect detail. Parfait had been mystified herself, saying that she had never heard of it happening before. Her only theory had been that perhaps, after being without a Bearer for so long and the fact that the last Bearer had thrown balance to the wind, the Crystallum Tenebrarum was requiring me to find the balance within myself that I would need to correctly maintain it.

I sigh irritably, turning from the doll shelf. It is one of those things that is much easier to say than to do. For now, I may as well get on with things.

After performing my morning ablutions, I ring a bell and a maid comes to help me dress. As the maid laces up the back of my dress, my eyes fall upon the box that holds the solution to Waltz's curse. It has always remained unopened until near my birthday that is months away.

Perhaps it is time to mess with some of the constants of my circular life, instead of trying to maintain previous patterns. Not just in the large things, like breaking Waltz's curse early, but in the little things as well. Perhaps this time I could make it different…and it would stop.

I nod to myself, making a mental note to open the box upon returning to the palace after seeing Waltz in town. Absently, I wondered why Delora, who had sat on her shelf for about half a year, had not used it to release Waltz from his curse. Either she did not know that it was the key to his curse, or Hildyr had done something to it to hide it from witch eyes.

I dismiss the maid after finishing dressing, then I fix my hair and walk into the hallway. As always, I pass two maids gossiping about more people being cursed on my way to breakfast. The Fairytale Curses had begun before the Great War, each curse inspired by one of Grimm's tales. This one concerns the Pinocchio curse that made someone's nose grow longer with lies. Originally, curses had only been cast to help reform an individual, but during the war they were used indiscriminately conveying malice instead of instruction.

Instead of berating the gossiping maids, I clear my throat, causing the maids to startle, sink into curtsies, and then continue their cleaning at a much faster pace. _Yes, everything will be different this time. Even if everything around me is the same,_ I _will be different in the way I respond to it._

After getting some of my horrifying endings, when going back I had tried making only single changes. This resulted in happy, or at least somewhat happy, endings but it had not changed that I had started again at square one. _This time I will make lots of changes._

"Princess? The king and queen are waiting for you in the dining hall," a maid tells me as she curtsies before me.

"I'm coming," I reply.

Upon entering the dining area, I see my father the king, my stepmother Ophelia, and stepbrother Rod already at the table.

"Good morning Lucette," the king says.

"Good morning Father," I replied, enjoying the brief startled look on his face at the informal address. _This might actually be fun._ I very carefully do not break into a grin at the look on my father's face. If his Ice Princess actually smiled at him, the king might be surprised enough to have a heart attack and that would change things more than I intended. _This time, I am going to try and be perfect. I am going to save my whole family this time, as well as the man I choose, and as many of the occupants of the Marchen as I can._

"Good morning Lucette," my stepmother greets me.

Instead of staring blankly at her, I reply, "It's mutual I'm sure," which is far more civil than my usual greeting, or lack thereof. This has not gone unnoticed, and as I take my seat beside my father, Rod is staring at me as if he is wondering if I am sick, or simply in rare form this morning.

Before Rod has had proper time to assess if my face is red with fever, his older sister Emelaigne burst through the doors. She is one of those bubbly people that never seems to diminish, but I have decided that, at least at times, the happiness is her own mask when she does not want to admit to pain. She tries not to disappoint those around her, and is friendly to everyone whether they deserve it or not. I had once though that she envied my position as crown princess, but now realize that she simply does not have sufficient ambition for that. She misses the freedom she had as a middle class girl, and would shun my greater responsibilities had she choice in the matter. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" she apologizes. "I was reading and forgot the time. Good morning dear Father, Mother. Good morning Rod! Good morning Lucette! It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?"

 _Yes, yes. It is another lovely day in which I woke up to find Delora on my shelf…again._

"Now that everyone is here, let us begin," the king says, and servants enter and serve us breakfast.

"So Emelaigne," Ophelia begins, "you were reading the Fairytale books that the king brought you?" I begin eating, knowing that if I don't start now I might not have a chance later.

"Oh yes," Emelaigne practically squeals. "There are so many and they are all so wonderful. Thank you so much Father!"

"I am happy that you like them," the king replies.

"I love them!" Emelaigne replies. "It's so strange that the library didn't have any of them to begin with."

"Mother burned them," I say, changing what I would have said slightly. "Either she did not want me reading them, or she simply liked burning things at that point."

"But why? They are such charming stories," Emelaigne says.

"They give an inaccurate view of the world," I say, trying to change what I typically say, but not so much so that I am put to bed and a doctor fetched for me. "Life is a mixture of success and failure, triumph and tragedy. If there was no failure, success would mean nothing. In the fairytales the 'heroes' always succeed. Their suffering is always deemed unjust by the storyteller, even when they were complicit in causing their circumstances. Without exception, every witch is portrayed as evil even when they simply make a bargain for what the hero requested of them, and every fairy as good even when there are strings attached to their favors."

I have read some of the fairytales from a book in the Marchen, and I know that everything I have said is accurate. Still, the king asks, "What exactly are you implying about witches, Lucette?"

"Merely that humans are as capable of victimizing each other and themselves as any witch is," I reply. "I also prefer to make character judgments based on actions or inactions rather than whether an individual was born fairy, witch, or human."

"Do you know what you are talking about child?" the king says. "Witches have caused nothing but pain and suffering to this kingdom. Even now, they still spread the Fairytale Curse to our innocent subjects."

"So you have never met a good witch? There is not _one_ witch that either you yourself or the kingdom owes anything to?" I say, thinking of Waltz.

Father opens his mouth irritably, then closes it before letting out a soft sigh. "They are in the minority," he finally answers. "But you are right Lucette, there is one witch the kingdom owes much to, but many others who have only caused harm."

"And how did you repay her? Or, how did you repay him, if that is correct?" I ask. "Perhaps if Angielle paid its debts properly there would be more motivation for actions that are beneficial to the kingdom."

I know that my father has done little or nothing for Waltz who is working as a street magician, but I do not know if it was because my father was unwilling or unable to do so. "Perhaps you are suggesting I should offer him your hand in marriage as reward, Lucette?" he says wryly.

For a moment, it is all I can do to maintain a straight face. This is definitely different, and I wouldn't actually mind being married to Waltz. "It's a more interesting proposition than attempting to have me pick a suitor at a ball, and I know I'll have to find a husband eventually. Of course, you realize that it would be a recipe for you having witch grandchildren, but I would rather not give you grandchildren that you would dislike on principle," I say, knowing full well that Father knows that if give him grandchildren they will be witches anyway, regardless of who their father is. The responsibility of Tenebrarum Bearer now travels with the throne. "If you are indeed considering this course of action, I would require a courtship of some sort before making a decision to go along with it."

My father's mouth opens and closes a few times soundlessly, and I glance at the rest of my family who appear quite shocked. "I was not being serious Lucette," he finally says, sounding somewhat hoarse.

"Perhaps you should be," I answer, and take a final bite of breakfast before delicately blotting my mouth with a napkin. "I am finished. Excuse me," I say, leaving my gaping family behind at the table.

I almost smile in triumph. I have succeeded in changing an argument with my father and stepmother into a discussion about the plausibility of myself choosing a witch suitor. It is a small change, but small changes can lead to bigger changes which are exactly what I am after.

"You look almost happy today Princess," Fritz says as he walks up to me. As always, my personal knight is dressed in white and grays, with hair that is as white as paper. He has been with me for three years, and is arguably the only person whose presence I tolerated during that time.

I usually ignore meaningless observations, but today I answer him. "I decided to amuse myself at breakfast this morning," I say, but do not specify how this was accomplished. "You are here early."

"I'm running some errands for my father," Fritz answers. Oh yes, his father—my father's trusted advisor that is currently, unbeknownst to the king, plotting against him. _To be more accurate, Father was warned, but then he disregarded the warning._ Perhaps as terrible is the fact that Fritz's father is complicit in cursing his own son to make him into an obedient, if coarse, tool.

I wonder if Fritz has been cursed yet. If he has not, I could tell him to leave now and escape the curse…but once my curse takes effect, he would not remember me and therefore forget any order I gave him. He would return to his father, and then be cursed himself. I see no way to help Fritz avoid it, and it puts a damper on my previously happy mood.

"You should wait in the throne room then," I tell him.

"Thank you," he says. Then his face turns glum. It always does at this point, but I wonder if he has noticed my shift in mood as well. "Princess?"

"What is it?" I ask.

"You know," he says, "I haven't seen you smile once since I met you."

"Are you merely stating a fact, or implying that that should be changed?" I ask.

"I do hope to see you smile one day, Princess," he replies.

' _Even if it's not you who makes me smile?'_ I wonder, but then startle as I realize that those words left my lips. I look over at Fritz, who appears surprised.

"What…excuse me Princess?" he asks.

"Forget I said anything," I answer.

He looks at me warily for a moment before shaking his head. "Anyway, I won't take up any more of your time. I'll see you at ten."

"Of course," I say, knowing that he is referring to my outing to town. Two days ago…it actually years with all the cycling I have been doing…my father had ordered me to go to town for the first time in four years with Emelaigne. It was an effort to encourage me to get along better with my stepsiblings, and better see the kingdom that would one day become my responsibility. I had argued with him, but had ended up taking his order to do so.

"It won't be that bad," Fritz tells me. "The townsfolk are good people."

"I didn't get that feeling four years ago," I say.

"Times change, people change," he insists.

"Change can be so subtle that it may as not exist, or so abrupt that you don't have even footing. Change needs to be defined before I will accept it as a good thing," I tell him, then wonder for a moment at my own statement when I have committed to myself that there will be many changes.

"I hope you will see good changes today, then," Fritz answers. "If you will excuse me, I shall see you later."

I return to my room. I usually talk to my dolls at this point, but my talking to dolls seems increasingly silly to me. I had treasured them because inanimate objects could not betray or hurt me. But, they also were incapable of helping me in any way, or even offering sympathy. Now, it seems doubly silly because talking to Delora makes sense because she _is_ a person so I could talk to her without feeling silly. However, she does not know that I know that she is a witch sitting on my shelf pretending to be a doll until she curses me tonight.

It occurs to me to wonder if there is something I can say or do to make Delora not curse me, but then I would be within the palace where Mythros can reach me easier. Or, I might be Sir Alcaster's prisoner instead. I decide not to attempt to avoid my curse.

A knock comes at my door. "Yes?" I say, and a maid enters.

"Excuse me Your Highness," the maid says. "The king has requested your presence."

"Very well, inform His Majesty I am coming," I say. The maid curtseys, and leaves.

On my way down the hall, I run into Myth…or Sir Mythros as he currently calls himself. My father's other betrayer who will attempt, if given the chance, to have me help him loose my mother upon the world. At one time he had been my mother's other apprentice…the devoted one. I still do not understand his loyalty to her. Once, when Waltz killed him, Mother merely commented that he was disappointment as he died at her feet. Once she had even killed him herself for what she saw as his failures. I also think that he had been wounded at some point during the Great War, but I am unsure of the details.

"Oh…good morning, Your Highness," Myth greets me.

"Sir Mythros," I answer, unable to attempt a more civil answer to this snake of a man.

"Every day you look more and more like your mother," he tells me.

"As often as I see you admiring her portrait, I presume that was a compliment," I reply.

"Of course Your Highness," he says, "to say that you resemble your mother in any way is always a compliment from myself. However, are you on your way to the king? I shall not keep you. Until our next meeting, dear princess."

I turn and leave him to go into the throne room. When I enter, only my father is there, standing by a pillar instead of seated on his throne. "Your Majesty," I address him.

"Lucette, are you ready?" he asks.

"To go out you mean?" I ask him dryly. "I need only collect my cloak on the way out. I presume you are not inquiring about my state of dress?"

"You will enjoy this Lucette," the king tells me. "I hear that the toy shop has lovely dolls. This will be good for you. You will get to know your sister better, and you will be able to interact with and learn about the people of Angielle. About our subjects."

"Is there something specific you wanted me to look for, or are you merely expecting them to look at me with less animosity than when I was out four years ago?" I ask.

My father sighs. "Why do you always expect people to be incapable of good?" he asks.

"I would believe it more readily had you demonstrated it more yourself," I answer. While some part of me longs for the relationship we have never had, I am unsure if that can happen before he accepts responsibility for not offering it when I needed it the most. "Where were you when I needed you four years ago? What occupied your time so much that I rarely heard your voice for months? What was so much more important than comforting your own newly motherless daughter? What about me did you hate so much to do that?" I ask, knowing that he hated that I was the witch's daughter.

My father is silent for a long moment. "I know that I've hurt you. I know that there is nothing I can do to atone for what I did. But please…Ophelia and her children are not a part of that. They do not deserve to be hated."

"Yet you show them considerations you never offered to me," I say. "I do, however, acknowledge that that is your fault instead of theirs."

"What considerations would you like of me?" my father asks.

The question startles me for a moment. If I could ask anything of him…. "What about me did you hate so much that you left me alone when I would have been most receptive to developing something like a normal father/daughter relationship? If you dare say my temperament, as far as I am concerned grieving children are allowed whatever temperament they wish. All I am inquiring of you is the truth."

Of all the things I could ask him, asking this thing makes my father turn pale. "I…I knew that you would ask this one day. It's probably better that you hear it from me than from someone else, but…." He sighs heavily. "I ask that you not require it of me today. There is something I have been keeping from you, but I had my reasons. Perhaps it is time soon." He leans back against a pillar, rubbing his head. "It will be a lengthy discussion if you don't storm out on me early, and your sister and the others are waiting for you outside. Tomorrow, Lucette."

 _But there will be no tomorrow. At least, you will not remember me tomorrow._ But I can see the distress on my father's face. He is worried that I will not believe him when he tells me the truth about my mother, or that if I do believe him whatever pleasant memories I might have of her will become tainted. He believes that I will be furious with him for hiding it from me for so long, that it will drive me farther away from him.

And none of that changes the fact that I need to be told.

I remember the few hours we shared together in a cell, both weeping, asking for and receiving each other's forgiveness. They were the sweetest hours I ever spent with my father. I could demand it tonight but…if I reconcile with my father tonight, would Delora still curse me? If she does not, that could lead to an increased risk of my mother getting loose.

"Very well, tomorrow then," I answer. "I do not claim to have been the perfect daughter either. I do not doubt that I have caused you pain as well. Perhaps we deserve each other."

When I leave my father, there is something akin to hope in his face.

…..


	2. Another Day in Town

**Chapter 2. Another Day in Town/'First' Meetings**

Leaving the few guards outside, Emelaigne, Rod, Fritz and I enter a small toy shop. The girl behind the counter brightens at the sound of customers entering the shop. "Hello, how can I help…" is all she can get out before Emelaigne squeals "Viorica!"

Viorica's smile widens even further. "Emelaigne! I mean, Princess Emelaigne! How good to see you!" The two girls hug.

For the moment, I appear forgotten so I absently peruse the shelf containing the dolls. As I remember, they are of lower quality than my own at the palace but the comparison is meaningless to me now. _I would wager, however, that there are no witches on this shelf._ The thought strikes me, and I have to bite my tongue and clench my fists to keep myself chuckling at the thought.

"There's no need to be so tense, Princess," Fritz tells me. "You only need to relax and enjoy yourself."

"It is difficult to relax when one is in unfamiliar surroundings," I reply, merely stating a fact instead of spewing venom.

Emelaigne was still talking with her friend. "There is no need to be formal, Viorica. I'm still the same as I was." She turns around toward the rest of us. "Oh yes! Rod's come along as well!"

"It's been a while Viorica," Rod's plush bunny says for him.

"It's good to see you again too, Rod," Viorica answers.

"And," Emelaigne says, "I must introduce you to Her Highness, the Crown Princess Lucette."

Viorica startles and takes a step backwards, away from me. However, she quickly recovers her smile and replies, "My apologies for being so rude, Your Highness. Good morning."

"Good morning," I reply, the height of civility if not warmth.

Emelaigne looks somewhat relieved, and pulls on Fritz's arm sparring me further conversation as if she thinks I might have only two civil words in me. "And this is Sir Fritzgerald, Sir Alcaster's son."

It occurs to me to wonder why Fritz was assigned as my personal knight, but not as Emelaigne's while I was cursed. Was it possible that, in preparation for the coming coup, Sir Alcaster wanted his son personally loyal to me? Did he think that there was a chance his son, although not approving of his father's methods, would go along with the plan if his father would uninstall my father only to install me as the reigning monarch? Was he plotting as long as three years ago, only a year after the Great War had ended?

It was a definite possibility. Sir Alcaster could have been waiting for me to age enough that it would be plausible to make me queen, but then once I was cursed, that timeframe became irrelevant until I was remembered. It explained why Emelaigne had no personal knight. Alcaster had no plan to install _her_ as she was the very image of the type of ruler he despised. Therefore, it was not important that anyone at all be loyal to her.

I break out of my considerations of the past and future, and bring myself back to the present.

"It is a pleasure to meet you my lady," Fritz replies.

"Oh!" Viorica says. "You're Sir Fritzgerald? You are really as handsome as Emelaigne describes in her letters!"

"I'm sorry?" Fritz asks.

Emelaigne blushes. "Please don't mind her, Sir Fritzgerald!"

I sigh inwardly, wondering what could have been different had Fritz been interested in my sister, who obviously admired him at least. But, when he tried to fight his curse, it was always so he could protect me. Protecting me was one of the few ways he had been able to act on the love he had for me. But there was always so much blood when I went down his path. And magic itself died.

No, while Fritz would always occupy a special place in my heart, I had to choose someone else.

Viorica's voice startles me out of my brief contemplation. "I'm sorry Emelaigne!" she exclaims.

I begin to wonder if these two girls originally bonded over their use of exclamations. They both seemed to get excited so easily.

"….Right," Fritz says, as Emelaigne is still blushing, and she starts obviously searching for something unrelated to say.

Viorica attempts to rescue her friend. "So, um, what brings you all the way here?"

Emelaigne sounds grateful as she says, "Oh! I'm here to get some toys. Gifts for some new friends."

"Toys from…here?" Viorica asks. She knows her stock isn't the quality that those in her new social circles would expect to receive as gifts. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am!" Emelaigne says, still as bubbly as she ever is.

"Then perhaps you should make your selections, Emelaigne," I say. I no longer feel like I am suffocating in this small store, but if we linger too long we might miss Waltz's performance. However, before Emelaigne can so much as cross over to the shelves of toys, Karma enters resplendent in a dress. Everyone but Rod and myself gapes at the vision of loveliness. I half wonder if Rod is considering that the guards just allowed a marvelous swordsman within feet of the girls they were supposed to be protecting.

In the defense of the said guards, upon a glance, the most danger Karma seems to wield is as a heartbreaker.

"Good morning," Karma says.

"You're early today, ma'am," Viorica replies.

"I have some important errands to run later today," Karma says, and I can't help but wonder if he intends to sleep the rest of the day so he can go looking for me at night once I am cursed. "Are the items ready now?"

"Oh, of course! Let me go fetch them for you," Viorica replies. "I'll just be one moment, Emelaigne."

Viorica ducks into the back room, and Karma turns around and smiles at me. But Viorica literally gone for only a few seconds before returning to the counter with a package. "Here you are, ma'am."

Karma thanks Viorica before turning to leave. Evidently, the contents of the package have already been paid for.

"Ah," Emelaigne sighs. "That lady was beautiful!"

"Right?" Viorica answers. "Any girl standing next to her becomes hopelessly ugly in comparison."

"Who is she?" Emelaigne asks.

 _A cross-dressing lost, cursed crown prince that turns into a beast when he falls in love._ I want so badly to say it out loud, but Rod is standing right there. He must know Karma by sight, and probably that Karma is a man, but not that Karma is also a prince and certainly not that he turns into a beast. It would be suspicious if I said anything.

"She's new around town," Viorica explains. "Some say that she's a fairy."

 _He's not a fairy…he just hangs out with them._ Of course, it would be to Karma's advantage if people thought that he was a fairy. The people of Angielle respected fairies as they had helped win the Great War, but the fairies were powerless to stop the spread of the Fairytale Curse. However, they had their own power. Enough so that a scoundrel that may have thought of attempting to take advantage of a beautiful woman would steer clear of a fairy. It would give him fewer heads to have to pound in.

Evidently, Emelaigne has quickly made her selections. "Here you go!" Viorica chirps, handing over the packages. "Thank you so much!"

"No, thank you Viorica!" Emelaigne beams as she takes the packages. "I hope to drop by again soon!"

"Good, I'll look forward to seeing you again!" Viorica says. "And I hope to see you soon as well, Rod!"

"Likewise," Rod's bunny says.

We return to the street where some point and stare at me. Most make it a point to avoid me completely. I almost sigh, remembering how Waltz and the townspeople had once showered me with lilies and cheers on my way to the palace before I was crowned queen. But the price of that crown and those accolades had been the death of my father.

And I am not willing to pay that price. _If that means that I must be treated like the plague, so be it._

At least the stares are less intense than they were four years ago.

Emelaigne notices me looking at some townspeople that are pointing at me. "I'm sure the townsfolk are only surprised to see you again after so many years."

"Some perhaps," I answer her. _Others are behaving as if they expect that I will curse them._

"Oh Lucette, look!" Emelaigne exclaims as she pulls me forward. "A street performance! It's been so long since I last watched one."

And there I see Waltz, looking perhaps twelve, blissfully unaware that the king's family was discussing him at breakfast, suggesting that he might be deserving of my hand in marriage. "Good day, everyone!" he says. "My name is Waltz, and I am here to spread some happiness and magic!" He snaps his fingers, and petals rain down around him.

"Isn't that pretty, Lucette?" Emelaigne asks.

 _At about four years older, yes he is pretty. I really don't mind that his eyes are red. I need to find that box and key as soon as I go home…._

"And are those the princesses over there?" Waltz asks, coming up to us. "It's an honor to have you in attendance! Please accept these humble gifts." He snaps his fingers, and white lilies appear in his hands.

"Oh, thank you!" Emelaigne says.

 _He promised to teach me this trick on my birthday._ I remember dreaming it, but not the event itself, really. I probably shouldn't imply to Waltz that I remember something that I don't.

"Lilies are my favorites, thank you," I tell him, accepting the flowers he offers me. Emelaigne turns to stare at me, shocked as I have suddenly become much more interesting than the street magician. She may not have ever heard me thank anyone before. Waltz, however, watches me as if expecting some other recognition. _He is hoping that I remember him, even a little._ And I do remember Waltz kissing me in the forest among glowing, magical lights. Of course, he does not remember that because it has not happened yet. And it may not happen at all, this time.

After a moment, he sighs and gives me a wry smile. "I hope to see you again during my next show," he says. _"When I saw you again that day, I was so happy. I though fate had brought you back to me. But then you still didn't recognize me..."_ I remember him telling me, much later. And it takes every ounce of willpower I have to stop myself from calling his name, from inviting him to the palace so I can simply give him the key to unlocking his curse.

Myth might notice if I did that, not to mention that Delora might not give me my curse in that case and it is the one thing I have decided to keep the same. If it doesn't work and I find Delora on my shelf again, I'll try skipping my curse if I can.

"We'll definitely try!" Emelaigne exclaims.

Waltz bows, and moves back into the crowd to continue his magic show.

"There are performers like this all over Angielle. I love them!" Emelaigne gushes. "Maybe someday we'll get to see musicians too. Those are my favorite."

"If you wish music," I tell her, "tell His Majesty. I am sure he will hire you a tutor so you can learn to play whatever you like."

"You don't like it out here?" Emelaigne asks me. "Rod and I grew up here. I love Angielle, and this is my favorite part of the kingdom. I wanted to share this with you, Lucette. I know you didn't really want to come, but you tagged along anyway. That means a lot to me, so thank you."

"Father insisted that I come," I reply. "He seemed to think that it would be good for me. Although it escapes me why he thought it would be good for me to be looked upon as an object of scorn. I do have to admit, though, that it seems less pronounced than it did four years ago when I was last out. There was a grand total of _two_ people that did not shy away from me this time."

"I just want us to be closer, Lucette. I would like to try and be your friend," Emelaigne says.

Instead of rejecting her outright, I choose my words with more care. "We are very different people, Emelaigne. That makes friendship more difficult, although not impossible."

We had gone forward from Rod and Fritz earlier, and I hear them catch up behind us.

Emelaigne's eyes widen. This was perhaps a better response than she had hoped for. "But you think we can try?"

I sigh as if heavily put upon. "Fine. We can take tea in the spring garden in two days' time, weather permitting. I will instruct you in how to properly take tea." I say it, but I know that the circumstances will not be permitting. It's a pity, but that is how it is. "You are a princess now, and it is high time you learned."

"Why in two days?" Emelaigne asks.

"Because His Majesty says he has something of import to discuss with me tomorrow, and by his tone I think that I may not be good company afterwards," I answer.

"Oh," Emelaigne says quietly, and exchanges a furtive look with her brother. At least she has stopped exclaiming everything she says for the present.

I decide to skip the part where I run off and Fritz has to come find me, as I have also skipped the fight with Emelaigne and Rod. Of course, this means that I also skip overhearing about how I had Annice fired from her job as a palace maid. I had thought her clumsy for tearing Delora's dress when cleaning, but later learned that she had actually saved Delora from being carried off by a bird.

While I regret what I had done now, I do not regret how the situation turned out. Parfait had taken the girl, who had some skill in herbs, in. Those in the Marchen benefited from Annice's services, and Annice herself benefited as she is later trained as a doctor. Being a doctor is a better fate, in my estimation, than working as a palace maid.

We start walking toward the palace, and for the moment, Emelaigne remains unusually subdued. Rod is as quiet as always, so only Fritz attempts conversation of any kind on our way back.


	3. Sisters

**Chapter 3. Sisters**

Once we enter the palace, I hand my cloak to a maid and instruct her to put the lilies I am still carrying in a vase in my room. That maid must have run like the wind, because when I enter my room, I find a late luncheon laid out for me and the lilies in a vase on my dresser. But lunch is not the first thing on my mind.

I walk up to smell the lilies, and turn to Delora who sits on my shelf not a few feet away from the flowers. "I went into town today, Delora. Most of the people there acted like they hated me, and I don't know what I did to deserve it. The boy who gave me these flowers didn't do that though. I wonder why he was different." I turn to the flowers, and smell their sweet aroma. I felt like talking to someone…and I guessed it would do no harm to say what I truthfully remembered. "He was a street magician that made them appear at the snap of his fingers. I remember having a dream, of a dark haired boy that was older than me who did that once. I begged him to teach me how, and he promised he would…." I trail off before finishing the thought. Waltz had promised that he would teach me on my birthday. He had been born a full witch, able to use magic from the time he was young. Myself, as a half-blood, could only start using magic on my eighteenth birthday.

It had been a promise that he had known would be impossible for him to keep until my eighteenth birthday.

I shake myself, reminding that I have an important task. I search through my drawers until I find the small gold key that fits into the exquisite box. Finally, I look up at my dolls. "Delora?" I ask. "Have you never wondered what Mother hid in this box? Should I disobey her by finding out?"

I am certain that if Delora was not in doll form, her face would have shown shock as I stuck the key in the box and twisted it. There was a bright light that escaped from the box, and then it was gone. "Well, that was interesting. I wonder what that did? Was the box magical?" I wonder out loud, knowing that somewhere I have just given Waltz a surprise as he suddenly becomes his proper age and regains access to the entirety of his magical power.

I put the box away as if I have lost interest, and eat my meal. As I eat, I remember that Emelaigne has bought a doll she means to give to me in hopes that it will be an interlude to friendship. She does not do so before I am cursed, but places it in my room later because she thinks it an appropriate place for the doll until she can remember who she was going to give it to once she has forgotten me. Given how I usually act towards her in town, it is plausible that she is saddened or angered by me, and decides to try a different day when I am in better form. Since I was polite to her in town this time…. _Does she intend to give me the doll tonight?_

If I remember, it is plainer than the dolls that already sit on my shelf. Delora would think it strange of me to accept an inferior gift with grace, and I can't be too pleasant in front of her until after I am cursed. But, I have already decided to be as kind as I can be to Emelaigne, who really deserves no less of me.

Of course, I have another option. The gift-giving can occur outside this room where Delora will not bear witness.

"Delora, I'll have to leave you alone this afternoon," I tell the witch pretending to be a porcelain doll on my shelf. "I think that I'd like a walk in the garden today." While it is somewhat odd for me to leave my room for anything but meals and lessons, I do go to the gardens occasionally. At least, I do so often enough that no one will think it too odd of me.

I leave my room, and make sure that I take the hallway that leads past Emelaigne's room. Sure enough, I nearly bump into my stepsister who is carrying a package of the same size and shape that she left the toy store with earlier today. "Oh," she says as she sees me, clearly startled. "Lucette, I was coming to see you."

"Well, here I am," I tell her. "I was going to go walk in the gardens. If you wish to come, you may."

"Oh, of course I'd love to come!" she says, smiling, clearly happy that I am not only tolerating but accepting her company.

The entrance to the gardens is not far, and we pass only a few servants on the way there. Emelaigne chatters happily on the way there, about her lessons, how lovely she thinks the gardens are in full bloom, and the visit to town today but she very carefully does not mention the behavior of the townspeople toward me. I have to make very few remarks to keep the conversation going.

By the time we are in the middle of the garden by the fountain, observing the first of the daffodils as they bloom, she has gotten to our visit to the toy shop. "…and I was so relieved when Viorica changed the subject after she blurted out how handsome I thought Fritz is…" Emelaigne is saying, and I can't help but interrupt her.

"Emelaigne, do you…admire Fritz?" I ask her, and my stepsister turns bright red. "As more than an excellent knight or a friend I mean."

"I…ah…well…," she stammers, now red as a strawberry from her hairline down. She turns her gaze to the ground, suddenly very quiet. "Would you have an objection, if I did?" she asks, in a considerably quieter voice. If I remember correctly, she had even been attracted to Fritz in his Varg persona.

"No," I say, and Emelaigne's head snaps right back up. "I have no designs on him myself, and you are not the crown princess so you are free to admire whomever you wish."

"Whomever _I_ wish?" she asks. "But surely, you have no restrictions yourself!"

I raise an eyebrow at her. "We both know that monarchs and their immediate heirs marry more often for their kingdoms than themselves." And it is true. Political marriages are very common. Also, as my father implied during breakfast, the hand of the princess is occasionally granted to a hero of the realm. This is especially true if the king in question needs popular support for some reason—everyone loves a hero. "What Father did, in marrying your mother, is an exception to the rule. It is quite likely you have more freedom there than I have."

Emelaigne practically squirms where she stands. She feels guilty now, for missing the freedoms of a common girl when I have even more restrictions than she. "But Father wouldn't force you into marrying someone you don't love! You know he wouldn't!"

"Not without direst need," I acknowledge. "But sometimes, dire need does occur. Another example would be what if I fell in love with a crown prince?" I ask, thinking of Klaude. My heart aches for a moment before I can continue. "We could not combine kingdoms. One of us would have to abdicate our thrones in order to marry. If there is not a suitable secondary heir to the throne, this would then become impossible."

I know Klaude has a younger brother, but I know very little about him. I just know that I cannot leave the kingdom to Emelaigne. She's unhappy enough as a princess, but as the queen…. I'm not sure if she would be able to cope. She wears her emotions so visibly; she would be easy to manipulate. Her only choice would be to find a consort that could rule for her, and that would limit her options. She would be unable to follow her own heart, and become unhappy for it. It would be a cold life with a man she needed, but perhaps did not love.

"Well," Emelaigne reasons, "you don't even know any crown princes, so if you meet one simply fall in love with his younger brother instead!"

"This is what I meant when I said that you have more freedom than I," I tell her.

"Oh," my stepsister says, and her face falls.

"But back to the subject of Fritz," I say, and her expression suddenly takes on a concentration I rarely see in her. "Like I said, I have no designs on him, but he is the closest thing to a friend I have. However, I sometimes wonder if he is interested in me. If he was, it would be easy to suppose that his sense of duty would forbid him from confessing it to me…unless I made a move first, or if he were _very_ drunk which would simply not happen when he was on duty or even anywhere near me."

"I…have wondered about that too," Emelaigne admits. "He's known you for so much longer, and his loyalty to you is without question. If you do not change your mind about not wanting him and eventually marry someone else…."

"Then Fritz will have the choice between moving on, or making himself miserable," I finish for her. "Of course, this is all conjecture. If I was correct, though, and you wanted Fritz it would be best to wait until I am engaged or married myself and he has had time to heal," I say, even though I know it is not conjecture. I know that Fritz is smitten with me, but I cannot explain to Emelaigne how I know. And it saddens me.

We are both quiet for a long moment, and my sister finally shakes herself and hands me the package she has been carrying the whole while. "I bought this for you," she tells me. "I know it isn't up to the standards of what you already have…but I hope you like it."

I open the box to find the doll I remember, the very same doll I found in my room when I was in the palace attempting to make up for the mistakes I had made with Rod's family to get my good deeds. Emelaigne is correct, it is not at nice as my other dolls, but that is not what I consider important right now. "Well, I do like her," I tell my sister, and she smiles gratefully.

I blink. _She is giving_ me _a gift, and_ she _is the grateful one._ And it touches me in a way that she has not touched me before. The fact that she is grateful for me accepting her gift brings the thorny truth of how horrible I have been to her. "I don't deserve a gift from you," I say before I can stop myself. "I don't deserve you being grateful for my taking it."

Her smile is genuine. "What matters to me is that we've just had our first friendly conversation," she says. "The first of many I hope?" Emelaigne appears almost breathless as she waits for my answer.

"I…think that I would like that," I answer, and I hear a twig snap.

Hoping it was not someone dangerous, I turn around, but only see Rod's shoes peeking out from behind a tree. _How long has he been there?_ "You might as well come out," I tell him in a louder voice than I have been using to converse with Emelaigne, and Rod steps from behind the tree.

"What were you two being so secretive about, all this time?" Rod's rabbit says for him.

His sister smiles at him. "We were just talking about girl things; things you wouldn't understand."

"Yes," I say, deciding to play with him a little bit. "Sometimes it's useful for a couple of girls to put their heads together to find new ways to cope with that time of the month…."

"Never mind," that stuffed rabbit yells as Rod blushes, and he practically runs away while his sister watches him with her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles so he doesn't hear.

As I bid Emelaigne goodbye she reminds me of my promise for tea in two days, and I nod and give her a simple, "Of course," in response, regretful that the 'weather' of circumstances about to befall me will postpone my ability to keep that promise. Then, I return to my room, and set my new doll on the shelf with the others. When the day finally ends, I blow out the last candle, putting my room into darkness.

My true journey begins tonight.

…..

 _Author's Note_

 _Cinderella Phenomenon is currently a free visual novel game on Steam, and while it is not necessary to have played this to understand the story, it would add more richness to the story if you have played it._

 _Also, please note that I tend to post new chapters faster if I get reviews. :)_


	4. Cursed by a Doll…Again

**4\. Cursed by a Doll…Again**

"Twinkle, twinkle little star…."

 _I wish, just once, she would let me sleep the entire night and just curse me in the morning._

"How I wonder what you are," Delora's now familiar voice continues.

I groan as I continue to wake. My bed is so warm and comfortable; I have no inclination to leave it for the chilly streets. But I know that I have no choice.

"Up above the world so high…."

Perhaps this is what poor teenagers feel like, getting woken to start their chores. Of course, my 'chores' involve saving my kingdom, family, and friends from death and disaster…not to mention sweeping the floors of the Marchen.

"Like a diamond in the sky…."

Of all the things she could be singing to me, a nursery song. The first time I heard this, I had not identified it as a nursery song. Mother had never sung to me, and it would not surprise me to find that she had forbidden my nannies from doing so.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star…."

I wonder what it would have been like, to have someone singing to me as a child. I wonder if Delora use to sing this song to her own daughter, and then I remember that Mother killed Delora's daughter. Perhaps I should not ask Delora about it.

Finally, I open my eyes to see Delora, still in doll form, sitting in front of me on my bed. "How I wonder what you are," Delora finally finishes.

"Delora?" I ask, attempting to look surprised when I have seen this often enough to have memorized her every word.

"It's almost time," Delora says. "Only ten minutes before the clock strikes twelve."

I pinch myself to ensure that I am awake, simply because it would look odd if I did not. Then, Delora transforms from her doll form and stands before me. "I hope you're ready, Princess."

"What kind of magic is this? What do you intend?" I ask.

"I've been watching you since the day your father gave me to you," Delora says. "All the answers will come with time. But right now I am here to give you something, Princess."

Delora casts a spell, and a glass slipper appears. "But you are right, it is magic. And this is Cinderella's very own glass slipper."

"Wasn't it originally made of squirrel fur, witch?" I ask.

"Smart girl. I knew that you'd figure out that I was a witch eventually," Delora says.

"You transformed from a doll into a woman, and made a shoe appear from thin air," I say, as Delora deserves another sarcastic remark before she curses me. "Given that, what kind of a moron couldn't guess that you were a witch?"

Delora continues to smile. "It's time to say goodbye to your precious crown."

"I'm guessing you aren't merely borrowing it for a paperweight," I bite.

"Sweet dreams…Cinderella…" she says, and my world fades as the clock strikes midnight.

…

"Hey," a woman says. "Wake up girl!"

My body is stiff. It is use to nothing less than the finest silk sheets and goose down mattresses. Sleeping in a doorway has done my indulged muscles no favors. I moan as I wake.

"You have some nerve sleeping in front of my shop! Leave before a customer sees you!" the woman says.

The first time this happened, I argued with the shopkeeper about my identity as the crown princess. Now, I already know what she would tell me if I bother. That the king only has stepchildren, and never had one with the witch. That my existence has been erased from not only her mind, but the minds of everyone that have no curse or magic of their own.

Instead, I simply stretch my protesting muscles, dust off the rag of a dress I am wearing, and carefully pick my way up the street trying to avoid sharp stones as I have no shoes. The only decoration I have is the necklace with a glass slipper on it, missing the second slipper I will have to earn by performing good deeds.

I have successfully gotten my Fairytale Curse.

As I continue to walk, I consider my options. I could go to the palace gates, and find my father as he leaves the palace. My reward for doing so is his pity, and a small bag of coin. He will not recognize me. However, if he sees me later before my curse is broken, he will recognize me as the girl at the gate. Sometimes, the money is useful to buy an item or a gift that will help break my curse.

And then it hits me that today was when my father was going to tell me about the past. That, had Delora waited a day to curse me, I might have accepted my father's apologies and offered my own. Our tears might have blended into the only medicine that could have healed us both.

And suddenly, I find myself unable to face my father. I might be unable to get words out at the sight of him, and only cry instead. I blink away the tears that are already forming in my eyes, holding on to the fact that I at least have the dignity left not to bawl in public even as a peasant.

I have never let anyone save the man I love see me cry for anything less than the death of someone dear to me, and I see no reason to change that.

My only other path leads to the Marchen, the inn where Parfait, Delora, their guests, and those cursed dwell and congregate. I have wandered the streets of the town enough, on errands with the various young men who paid me court, to know my way around town. However, I cannot simply march into the Marchen and demand help. I have to let someone find me. Perhaps I should just sit across the street from the inn and wait for one of the Marchen's boarders to find me.

It would save me the effort of running around the streets at night, possibly getting accosted by vagabonds, rescued, and fainting. I have never found fainting to be dignified, and find that I do it much too often for my taste. Not for the first time, I wonder if Karma usually slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to carry me into the Marchen after I faint, or if he carries me properly in his arms. In his arms would be more dignified, but over the shoulder would leave him a hand free if he needed to use his sword again. And then I remember that Waltz is a full-grown man now, very capable of carrying me, and does not need his hands to fight. Actually, he could probably just float me along in the air if he wished, but that could attract unwanted attention.

 _Fritz is probably going mad right about now, looking for me, realizing that no one remembers me._ I sigh as I pick roads that lead toward the Marchen. _Possibly, he was cursed last night as well. And I could do nothing to stop it._

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that has nothing to do with the protesting my stomach is beginning to do. I know that he would fight and die for me, yet I find myself unable to protect him. I hate feeling powerless. I think I still would hate it, even if I had not been groomed for power. I despise not being able to give my friend the protection he deserves from me; the protection I would be able to grant him once I become the Tenebrarum Bearer.

The Marchen is near the outskirts of town, beside the forest where its swordsmen and swordswoman practice. I am walking slowly due to the pain in my feet, so the sun has reached its zenith by the time I start to near the inn. It occurs to me to wonder if Chevalier…Rumpel has been cursed yet, or if I might witness him receiving his head injury, but then I remember that I am typically bedridden for a few days after fainting and he arrives shortly after I wake. And I remind myself that I must think of him as Rumpel in my own mind, so I do not call him by his real name on accident. That, or explain how I could possibly know his name when I have only been out of the palace twice in four years.

When I am about a block away from the Marchen, I find a shady tree to shield me from the midday sun while I wait. I sit down on the ground and lean against the trunk while I massage my sore feet, wishing I had some water to cleans the small cuts from the sharp rocks I have not managed to avoid. I watch the crowd to see if there is anyone I recognize passing.

It is nearly an hour before a woman addresses me. "Girl, would you be interested in running a few errands in exchange for supper?"

I turn around to see Jurien staring at me quizzically. Of course, she does not remember me, having no curse herself. However, Parfait and Delora have possibly given her a description of me and sent her out with the others to search for me. She is using the question to see how I respond; to find out if I am the princess she is looking for, or just another street waif.

"Jurien Valiente, if memory serves. Former knight, dismissed from the Order. Reportedly for disobeying orders, although I find things rarely that simple," I answer her, and Jurien's eyes widen. "Why are people always so surprised that I pay attention to things?"

"Princess Lucette?" she asks.

"I see no recognition in your eyes," I say. "But you know my name when everyone else has appeared to have forgotten that I exist. I presume the witch that cursed me, the only one who would know that I was cursed, is searching for me?"

"Ah…yes," Jurien admits. Possibly her original plan had been to tell me of a fairy that helped people with their curses to get me to go with her.

"Fine," I say. "I require an explanation from her."

Jurien appears relieved that she will not have to take my somewhere by force. "It's this way…Princess. She, and a fairy that helps people with their curses, live in an inn called the Marchen. It can only be found by the cursed, and a few others given special exemption."

"Does the witch help supply business for the fairy on a regular basis, or am I an exception? And if the fairy is good at helping people with their curses, how does the inn stay in business?" I ask. "I take it she cannot simply dispel the curses."

"Only the Tenebrarum Bearer could simply dispel curses," Jurien answers me. "And that could only be a witch. And…as far as I know, this is the first time Delora has cursed anyone."

"Don't I feel special," I murmur, but I nod as if Jurien has told me something of import that I do not already know. I follow her to the back entrance of the Marchen, and up some stairs into what will be my new bedroom. Since it lacks what I would consider a comfortable chair, I sit on the bed and fold my hands expectantly. Unfortunately, a loud growl from my stomach quickly ruins whatever dignity my poise has managed to maintain.

"I'll go find Delora and Parfait, the witch you wanted to see and the fairy. I'll send someone up with a meal, and something for your feet as well," Jurien tells me. I look down at my feet, and I can see that they are bruised and scratched even in the indoor lighting.

At least they don't hurt as much as they would have, had I been running all over town in the night.

Jurien leaves, and in a few minutes Annice appears. Like Jurien, Annice was never cursed but has taken refuge in the Marchen for other reasons. She carries a tray with stew and bread, and a small ceramic dish I assume contains salve. "Um, hello Princess, I'm Annice," she says as she sets the tray beside me.

There is no recognition in her eyes either. Like most others, she does not remember me as a princess. I am merely some stranger to her. "Hello Annice," I answer. "That smells good." And it does. I heard once that hunger is the best seasoning, and indeed the simple stew tastes like the finest gourmet cooking. As I eat, I put my feet on the bed and allow Annice to wash, treat, and bandage them.

"You should leave the bandages on for several hours, at least long enough for the salve to sink in," Annice tells me.

"Very well," I tell her, using the last of the bread to wipe out my bowl. I have eaten faster than I consider genteel…or even polite…but I can't bring myself to care. "Is that witch here yet?" I ask.

"I'll check," Annice says, and then she takes my tray and leaves the room. I have barely a second to myself before Delora comes sweeping in.

"Well, well," Delora says with a smirk. "Today the Ice Princess is merely frigid instead of glacial."

I narrow my eyes at her, even though I am secretly happy to see her alive again. She died in my arms once, while I wept. "If you had wanted a happy, bubbly princess here, you would have cursed Emelaigne. Now, before we go any further, are you even capable of removing this curse?"

"No, haven't you read your Fairytales? The caster cannot take the curse back," she answers me. "You need to focus on breaking the curse yourself if you want your life back."

"Mother burned the Fairytale books in the palace library before I was able to read more than a few of them. You will have to simply indulge my ignorance on that issue," I answer, "or else provide me with the reading material."

Parfait enters the room, looking the very image of a fairy with light purple hair and large blue eyes. She does not show advanced age, but I know that she has accumulated enough injury throughout her lifespan that much more damage will end her. "Ah, welcome to the Marchen, Princess," she says.

"Parfait, should you really be up and about?" Delora asks her friend.

"Don't fuss," Parfait answers. "I'm feeling much better."

"I assume that you are the fairy Jurien was telling me about? And you and the witch are friendly?" I say, and Parfait nods.

"Yes, my name is Parfait and I am a fairy," she answers.

All I do is blink, but Delora still says, "You weren't expecting that one at all, were you, Princess?"

"After today," I answer her, "you could tell me that the beautiful, redheaded woman I saw in the toy store yesterday was a prince in disguise and I wouldn't turn an eyelash."

Delora and Parfait exchange a sidelong glance at each other, and once again I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing. "I'm sure you have many questions, Princess," Parfait finally says. "I promise we'll do our best to answer your questions."

"Very well," I say. "Why was I cursed?" I already know all the answers, but it will look suspicious if I do not ask.

"Seriously," Delora says, "you are going to ask that?"

"I see no immediate benefit you would receive from cursing me, if that is your question," I say. "If it involved ransom of some sort, you would have made it one in which my father would remember me so he could pay it."

"Very well, this one has a simple answer," Delora says. "It's because you are a cold-hearted, cruel, wicked princess who deserves to be punished."

"Delora," Parfait tries to intervene, but the witch simply continues.

"A curse is the only way to force you to change your horrid ways," Delora finishes.

"Delora," Parfait sighs, "you could have put that more nicely."

"I'm pretty sure I was already being nice," Delora says with a smile.

"Change? I fail to see how my temperament is your affair," I answer.

"Are you completely unaware of how heartless you are to other people?" Delora asks me. "The coldness you show to your step-family and your father?"

"I am aware that I am imperfect; I told my father that just yesterday," I answer. "I finally cornered him about why he ignored me for months when Mother died. I simply wanted to know what he hated about me so much he would not comfort a grieving child. We were to have a conversation concerning that today. However, that seems impossible now, and I still have yet to hear how any of this is your affair."

Delora and Parfait exchange looks, and I wonder if they think that they acted prematurely, or just in time. "But the way you treat Princess Emelaigne…."

"...I agreed to teach her to take tea properly tomorrow, but that isn't happening either, now," I say. "I really don't see how it is my fault that the girl has so much energy, she tires out those around her due to her mere proximity. We actually had a nice conversation yesterday afternoon, though. She somehow managed not to be that jumpy for all of ten minutes."

"You were cursed because you need to prove that you have some goodness in you, Princess," Delora tells me. "Some smidge of kindness."

"Why?" I ask. "Nearly all people are self-serving. They are kind when they want something of you, and then when they have it, you are discarded like rubbish."

Parfait is silent for a moment. "What else would you like to know?" she finally asks.

"How about how I break my curse?" I ask. "No, wait a minute. Let me guess. To break my curse, do I have to find my one true love? Save my kingdom from armies of darkness? Slay a dragon perhaps? Or maybe journey to the throne of the gods to ask their favor?"

Delora's smile almost appears more amused than snide for a moment. "You have to perform three good deeds to complete Cinderella's missing slipper, thus the pair, on your necklace."

"Are you certain there is not a dragon I might slay instead?" I ask wryly. "I don't pretend to think that I could take one head on, but perhaps I could set a trap."

"That might count as one good work, but you need three," Delora answers. "And there are good deeds easier than dragon slaying. At least, easy for someone who knows how to be good."

"Take heart Princess," Parfait encourages me. "Goodness is innate in everyone."

"Are you sure that is the case with this one?" Delora asks.

"I fail to see why you would bother to instruct me in how to break my curse if you thought I was incapable of it," I say before Parfait can protest. I'm not afraid to show that I have some backbone, as well as sense. "Had you wanted me out of the way completely, you would have simply killed me. Therefore, either you are crueler than you claim I am by toying with me, or it benefits you in some way for me to learn to break my curse."

"We don't think you incapable of breaking your curse," Parfait tells me. "For every good deed you accomplish, you will get a piece of the glass slipper. When you have gotten all three, you'll complete the pair and the curse will break. Simple!"

"I suggest you start by polishing that attitude of yours," Delora puts in.

"What else would you like to know?" Parfait asks.

I already know that my curse will end when I turn eighteen and become Tenebrarum Bearer, so I see no reason to ask what will happen if I do not break my curse. There is nothing to gain by having them be evasive. "Why are you two working together?" I ask instead, and then nod through Delora's history lesson. How there were two crystals, one called the Crystallum Lucis which was powered by happiness and love, and the other the Crystallum Tenebrarum powered by fear and anger. The strongest witch was the Tenebrarum Bearer, and Parfait, as the strongest fairy, was the Lucis Bearer.

I raise my eyebrow when they mention that Parfait is the strongest fairy. "The Great War damaged me," Parfait admits. "My powers are a fraction of what they use to be. And with no child, I have no successor to my burden."

"What does a Bearer do?" I ask.

"The Bearers regulate the energy of the crystals and keep the balance between darkness and light," Delora answers.

They continue with the history lesson, of how witches, fairies, and humans once lived in harmony in Angielle before a storyteller named Hans Gabrielle Grimm had written tales that always cast witches as evil, thus turning public opinion against them and starting a feud between the witches and fairies. This started the humans conducting witch hunts, but at first the witches did not fight back as they were not permitted to use their powers to cause harm. However, the Tenebrarum Bearer decided upon revenge and took over the kingdom.

I know that my mother, driven mad by the grief of feeling the deaths of so many witches, was the Tenebrarum Bearer who took her revenge. The Fairytale Curse had been invented to cause additional pain and anger to further fuel the Tenebrarum, and the balance between the crystals broke. This increased the power of the remaining witches, and the fairies decided to fight back, which led to the Great War.

I know that my mother took the kingdom by forcing my father to marry her. They say that the War ended with the help of an unexpected ally, who I know to be Waltz, my mother's former apprentice. They speak of how good witches suffered, and must now hide themselves. Of how many lives were lost.

"So, there are both good and evil witches?" I ask, as if wanting this clarified.

"The Tenebrarum can poison a heart and mind into darkness and cruelty," Parfait answers. "The witches put themselves at risk in working with the Tenebrarum, in maintaining harmony. Some, inevitability, are corrupted."

Wryly, I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to fight this corruption myself, or if I'll just go around and around until the end of time.

"Many good witches were corrupted during the war," Delora explains. "Most remain that way."

"Many do not believe it," Parfait says, "but witches can be just as kind as fairies."

"Yet fairies are not known for cursing people," I say.

"I've done you good by cursing you, Princess," Delora tells me. "You'll thank me when you've broken it."

"Delora was not corrupted by the Tenebrarum," Parfait promises me. "She is as good as they come. Hopefully, you'll come to see that for yourself."

"If she is a good witch, I hope to never meet an evil one," I answer, knowing full my mother qualifies as the evilest witch alive in recent memory. "Exactly how did the Tenebrarum Bearer take over my father's kingdom, by the way?"

I am surprised at myself that I did not think to ask that question the first time. Knowing the answer, however, I am not surprised that Delora and Parfait exchange a quick glance before Parfait tells me, "I'm afraid that is a question best answered at another time."

"Back to your original question," Delora continues, as if hoping I will forget to wonder how a witch took over Angielle, "apart from my own inherent goodness, Parfait and I are working together because we have a common goal. To restore balance between the darkness and the light."

"So, I assume this Tenebrarum Bearer, who took my father's kingdom through some mysterious means, was killed thus ending the war?" I say. "If you are trying to restore balance between darkness and light, is the new Tenebrarum Bearer proving difficult to work with?"

"At the moment, yes," Delora says. She looks as if she is grinding her teeth behind her generous lips.

"Is she planning to take over the kingdom too? Or is it a he?" I ask, enjoying the effect I am having on Delora. She deserves this, if only for the broom incident. "I certainly would not want her after my birthright."

"Er…" Parfait finally gets out, "I doubt that that will be an issue, Princess."

"But what, exactly, does any of this have to do with me?" I ask.

"We were talking about fairies and witches working together," Delora says. "We were not implying that it has anything to do with you."

"Another one of your 'projects' then, I take it?" I say appearing to let the issue go, and the other two women visibly relax. "Very well, what does my curse have to do with Cinderella? Wasn't she simply a poor girl that went to a ball and met a prince? How does being good play into that?"

"Going to a ball, finding a prince—it's all so old-fashioned," Delora explains. "No fun in that."

"Cinderella is a girl with a pure heart," Parfait tells me. "She's always willing to help others, even when they are cruel to her." All at once, the explanations were over. "Anyway, I have brought some clothes for you. I'll leave them on the table. We'll be waiting outside. There are some people I'd like you to meet."


	5. In the Marchen, as a Stranger to Friends

**Chapter 5. In the Marchen, as a Stranger to Friends**

They leave my room, and I dress in the clothing Parfait acquired for me. It occurs to me to wonder who picked it out. The dress is pretty enough, but marks me clearly as middle-classed, possibly upper middle class. It comes to my mid-calf, rather than my ankles, indicating that I am an adolescent rather than a young woman. In Angielle, once a girl's family considers her of marriageable age, she begins to wear skirts that fall to her ankles. This is a consistent code throughout all classes. I avoid socks, so my bandaged, swollen feet will fit in my shoes.

I take the now familiar hallway down into the main dining area of the Marchen. Annice is behind the bar, serving drinks, and a few but not all of the tables are filled at this hour. The conversation in the room stops as people notice me coming down the stairs into the room.

"Well," one woman says, "look at what we have here. The Ice Princess herself."

I no longer bother to look surprised that the people here know who I am.

"I didn't think it was true," another woman says.

"Cursed for her cold-heartedness," a man pipes in.

"As to be expected," the second woman chimes in.

"I take it your curses prevent you from keeping a civil tongue in your mouths?" I answer.

"Everyone, please," Parfait says, finally coming to my rescue. "You shouldn't be treating a newcomer like this." She turns to face me. "Princess, let me apologize. They mean no offense."

I raise an eyebrow at that. The two woman and the man simply smirk and return to their food. "Jurien told me that this inn can only be found by the cursed, and a few others. Would you care to expound on that?"

Parfait smiles at me, and I can tell that this inn is her pride and joy. "That is correct. The Marchen was built three years ago, when the number of cursed in Angielle continued to rise. The goal is to gather those affected so they might help each other break their curse. Of course, I am also here to help provide help as necessary. Only the cursed and those allied with our cause may stay here. The evil and the wicked can never find this place."

"And these people remember who I am because…?"

"The cursed are not affected by the conditions of someone else's curse," Parfait answers me. "Your condition is simple; everyone has forgotten you are the crown princess. But because these people here are cursed, they still remember your title."

"It goes without saying," says Delora, who has been waiting beside Parfait, "that fairies and witches are also not affected."

"Come on, Princess," Parfait tells me, "let me introduce you to the few boarders we have at the Marchen." She beacons, and Annice comes out from behind the bar. "You have already met Annice Willowe. She helps out in the Marchen, and does most of the cooking."

"I'm sure you understand why she is working here now," Delora tells me. "I believe she deserves an apology."

"Miss Delora? What are you talking about?" Annice asks.

"But wasn't it your dress that she ripped?" I ask Delora. Annice appears quite confused.

"Oh no," Delora says. "A bird did that. She simply kept the bird from making off with me."

"Really," I mull. "She seems confused. Is she not cursed like most of the others here?" Delora shakes her head.

"You were that doll, Miss Delora?" Annice asks. "What…?"

"You were once employed as one of my maids, Annice," I tell her. "I discovered you holding Delora, who was pretending to be one of my dolls, and her dress was torn. I had supposed that you were clumsy, and responsible for damaging my favorite doll. So, I had you fired. Apparently, my assumption was erroneous since Delora tells me that a bird was responsible, and you did not deserve to be fired from your job. For that, you have my regrets."

Parfait is smiling at me, but Delora looks as surprised as Annice. "Um…thank you, Princess?" the girl finally stammers, still looking a little confused. "I hope we get along."

Annice returns to the bar, and I turn around to face Delora. "What?" I ask. "I came to an inaccurate assumption. I don't pretend to know if she has other faults or not, but apparently clumsiness is not one of them. Therefore, it was unfair of me to have her fired for that reason."

I can almost see Delora thinking that I still would not be justified in firing Annice even if she had been clumsy, but she had not really expected me to offer any sort of an apology at all. I am not surprised when she apparently decides to leave well enough alone, and Parfait leads me to the next people she wants to introduce me to.

"Jurien Valiente and Garlan Belrott, formerly of the Order of Caldira," I say before Parfait can get her mouth open to introduce me. They were discharged from the Order about a year ago, when they tried to warn my father that Sir Alcaster, their leader, was plotting against king and crown. My father had chosen not to believe them, or even to seriously investigate their claims. And, unless I was very good, that negligence could cost my father his life. "Jurien did not appear to remember me when I saw her earlier, so I take that she, at least, is not cursed. What is your association with this place?" I ask them.

"We help the fairies," Garlan answers.

"They and Annice are exceptions," Parfait tells me. "They are allowed in this tavern without the curse. Jurien and Garlan lend us their strength to help protect the Marchen."

"Protection from what? I presume they are here to either lend their swords or gather intelligence," I say.

"From the witches," Delora says. "They'd do anything to make sure their curses remain unbroken."

"So a casting a curse is not a simple thing?" I ask. "It seems like it would be more trouble to make sure a spell remained unbroken than to simply cast another, otherwise. I take it that you are an exemption to this 'no witches allowed' rule, Delora?"

"Yes, I am an exception," Delora tells me. "Also, I'm good. You keep forgetting the 'good' part."

"Remember that not all witches are evil," Parfait reminds me.

"Your curse is a test," Delora reminds me. "Originally, the wicked were cursed so they could learn to change their ways. Their curses were meant to teach them a lesson. I'm hoping your curse will teach you a lesson too, Ice Princess. I am only trying to help you."

"I still fail to see how you 'helping' me would benefit you in all of this," I tell her. "Or why it is of import 'now.' If Father was ill or old, I could see you trying to mold the actions of the future monarch for your own benefit. However, he is relatively young and in good health. In theory, there could be many years left of his reign, and in that time potential for whatever effect this curse has on me to wear off."

"We hope that the lessons you learn while getting rid of your curse will stay with you for the rest of your life, Princess," Parfait tells me. "In the meantime, try and make some friends. They might be able to help you break your curse."

"Oh, I'd love to hang around and watch the princess try to be friendly," Delora says.

"We have work to do Delora," Parfait reminds her.

"Fine," Delora says, almost sounding sulky. "Try not to make any more enemies, Princess."

 _Right. Like I need more enemies._ When Delora and Parfait leave the room, whatever shield their presence offered me evaporates as well. Practically everyone stares at me, and it is clear that I am disliked. However, it does not seem as acute as the first time this happened to me. Then, I realize that they all heard me apologize to Annice. Offering regrets is something my mother would never have done, and I have managed to separate myself at least one step from her. I may be cold, but at least I am fair.

I find an empty table and sit down, staring into space as if deep in thought. I am not surprised when Karma comes up to me. "May I join you?" he asks, still dressed as a beautiful woman.

"Yes," I say. "I remember you from the toy shop. You were one of the two people I met yesterday that did not shy away from me." I know from experience that right now he is only trying to get on my good side. After I turn eighteen, he knows that I will be able to dispel his curse and believes I might be more agreeable to do so if I liked him. It is only later that he will start liking me for me.

I also wonder why, given that I will be able to dispel any curse in a matter of months, no one else is attempting to endear themselves to me. Perhaps my mother's reputation was simply so fierce that only an outlander like Klaude…Karma…with no first-hand experience with my mother or her deeds would dare to try.

"Ah yes, I was there picking up some items from a friend," he says. "I am humbled that you still remember me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Miss Karma."

"I wonder what twist of chance happened that your mother named you after fate," I say.

"A suitable name for someone as beautiful as me, no?" he asks.

"Karma, your narcissism is going to scare the princess away."

I turn at the sound of Waltz's voice. And, there he stands, looking about my age or perhaps a few years older. I almost smile at the sight of him before I stop myself. He smiles at me as he takes the other chair. "I'm Waltz Cresswell, Princess. I had the Neverland Curse before you apparently broke it. For that, you have my deepest gratitude."

I blink at him. "How did I break your curse…wait, did it have something to do with a fancy little box?" Delora has obviously put two and two together, and told Waltz that I had opened his box.

"It did," Waltz tells me. "I was cursed to remain ever a child, and the only way to break the curse was to find Neverland and Tinkerbell…which were represented by that box and the little gold key used to open it."

"Oh," I say. "Well, congratulations. I wonder what that box was doing in my room, and why Mother had been so certain that I should _not_ open it then."

"Err…" Waltz attempts to manufacture a logical reason beside the truth that my mother was the evil witch that had cursed him. I know that he had tried searching my room before, but I think my mother had cast some sort of spell so I could find the box but he could not. He would need to get close to me to find the box at all, for me to mention it to him. However, she had known that it would be painful for him to try, given that she had erased my memories of him. "Well, I suppose it was bound to be somewhere, right?" he answers, and hastily changes the subject. "I actually saw you briefly yesterday, Princess. I was the street magician that gave you those flowers."

"Oh, yes," I say, as if that makes perfect sense and I am no longer curious as to how the box ended up in my room. "I like lilies."

His grin turned almost bemused. "I regained my height during one of my performances. The crowd thought that it was my best trick yet. They thought that I had replaced myself with an older brother, or something. I had to stop and explain that apparently someone had broken my curse."

"At least with that explanation, they won't expect you to shrink back into a boy again so you can do repeat performances," I say.

Waltz nods. "I'm actually a witch myself, but I hide the fact and only do parlor magic in crowds. Not that I could do much else in my cursed condition, anyway."

"Huh," I say. "So, witches can curse other witches?"

"Only the Tenebrarum Bearer can curse other witches," Waltz explains.

"So, I assume you were one of the 'good' witches fighting in the Great War, and that's how you got cursed?" I ask, knowing I am getting dangerously close to facts that no one wants to tell me yet.

"At the very end, I was young," Waltz says before quickly changing the subject once more. "What is your curse Princess?"

"Cinderella," I answer. "I assume it is customary to tell everyone what curses we have?"

"We talk about it freely in the Marchen," Waltz tells me. "The whole point is helping each other break our curses, after all. Hard to do if we keep our Fairytales quiet." He pauses, and then glances sideways at Karma. "Well, some people keep their Fairytales a secret."

Karma does not respond.

"Anyway," Waltz continues. "Cinderella. That explains the nature of your curse. Only, it's been reversed, hasn't it?"

"Riches to rags," Karma comments.

"I've noticed," I say dryly.

"Karma, you're not helping," Waltz tells him. "You are better off ignoring him, Princess. He mostly speaks nonsense."

"He?" I say, as if surprised when I am really not the least bit shocked. "Karma is a man?" After so many times around and around, I am getting to be a very proficient actress.

"Princess?" Parfait says, appearing beside the table. "May I speak with you?" She takes me into the private lounge area. "I'd like you to meet someone, though I'm sure you already know him quite well."

I look over and see Rod standing there. "Rod?" I say, blinking as if I had not expected to see him here.

"So, you really are cursed," Rod's bunny says.

"I was the one that gave Sebby to Rod so he still had some way to voice his opinions," Parfait explains.

"So, that is what your rabbit is called?" I ask.

Parfait smiles. "Short for Sebastian. Cute, isn't it?"

"It's nice to meet you, Princess," Sebby says, in a higher voice than when he speaks for Rod.

"You are cursed too, aren't you Rod," I say.

"The Mermaid's Curse," Sebby answers for Rod.

"You never told me," I say. "I had assumed you had been mute since birth."

"I didn't think you'd particularly care either way," Sebby answers.

"I take it you are here so Parfait can help you with your curse?" I ask.

Parfait nods. "Yes, he comes to the Marchen from time to time."

"But I don't even want…" Sebby trails off. "Anyway, I only came here today to confirm that you were truly cursed. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. It was a big surprise when I woke up this morning and you weren't in the palace. It was an even bigger surprise when I found out that almost no one remembered you."

" _Almost_ no one?" I ask.

"…I wasn't going to tell you," Sebby says for Rod. "But yesterday, you were actually nice to Emelaigne, and she was very happy about it. So, Fritz remembers. He's been going somewhat insane looking for you all day today, trying to find anyone else that remembers you. I haven't told him that you've been cursed."

"So, Fritz has been cursed," I say sinking down into a chair. "He's been cursed and he's worried about _me_? Does he even know he's cursed?"

"Um…" is all Sebby can say, and Rod is looking at me as if he's never seen me before. "I really don't know anything about his curse, or it's circumstances. So, you actually care about someone besides yourself?"

I sigh. "First, Rod. I know you didn't grow up among guards. They are willing to fight and die to protect you for their duty to you, but you also have a duty to them as well. You honor their sacrifices, and you don't put your life—and thus theirs—into danger unnecessarily. You try to protect them as they protect you.

"Second, Fritz is the closest thing I have had to a friend that I remember, and my personal knight besides. I don't like people harming anything…anyone…that is mine."

Rod looks mildly surprised at my first point, as if he thought that I thought the knights were merely tools to be used. He grimaces at my second point, as if thinking I merely do not like others encroaching on my turf, as if Fritz is simply my possession.

"And third, you should really pay more attention to politics Rod! Do you even realize what this implies?" I ask, and Rod simply shakes his head. "Jurien Valiente and Garlan Belrott were discharged from the Order of Caldira for telling Father that Sir Alcaster was plotting against him. They are here, and I do not believe that they were lying. Assuming Alcaster is still plotting, Fritz would have never had gone along with it, but is close enough to his father to accidently discover the plot. A convenient way of getting Fritz out of the way would be to curse him in a way that alters his memory, actions, or both! But this requires the work of an evil witch! Sir Alcaster probably has a wicked witch as an ally!"

Rod shakes his head, but I can see growing concern in his eyes. "I think you are jumping to conclusions, Lucette," Sebby finally says.

My eyes narrow. "Look for changes in the guard," I say. "If you see more new faces than old…a preemptive necessity of any coup is to rid the guards of anyone that might fight for the king instead of the usurper. There is a chance, with a witch involved, that some of the knights could be spellbound so it may not be obvious.

"Is there any way you could take your mother and sister on a holiday in some other country, say, for five or six months?" I ask him. "I know Father wouldn't leave the palace, even during a full-fledged coup, but the rest of you could still get to somewhere safer before the axe falls."

Rod is silent for a long minute. "This is the first time you have given any indication that you cared at all about us," Sebby finally says slowly. I'm not sure if he believes that my deductions accurate, or not. He probably doesn't, and I can't say that I blame him under the circumstances. It's a theory with very little evidence.

He is probably more surprised that I want his family out of potential danger, but I doubt that he thinks that I care that much for them. There was simply too much damage done for me to repair it by simply being nice to Emelaigne for one day. However, he could see me as a hissing cat, batting her least favorite toy under a couch simply so a rival cat cannot reach it.

"I decided that one cannot choose one's family," I say, "so I am duty-bound to the one I have. Besides, if you, your mother, and sister stay you will only be useful as tools to use against Father…and one only needs a single tool if they have a single purpose. Sir Alcaster could kill one of you and threaten to kill the next if Father fails to meet his demands. You would limit the options Father would have."

"I think you are wrong Lucette, I hope you are wrong," Sebby says for Rod. "But I will remain wary. If I see an opportunity to get my family out of the palace I will take it, but I don't think it is necessary at this point."

I lean back into my chair and sigh. "If Sir Alcaster wishes a peaceful transition, there is also a good chance that they will be seeking me. His witch will not have forgotten me. They might decide that, once I break my curse, they can use me to legitimize the coup if they believe myself amiable to their goals. If this happens, and I am in their hands, I am warning you that I will play along with them to keep the rest of you alive." I consider mentioning my mother, but Parfait is still standing in the corner listening to us. She does not know that I know about Mother. "I may have to say or do some cruel things to make myself believed. If it comes to that, just play along and remember that I am only trying to keep everyone I can alive."

"I still hope that you are wrong, and that Fritz being cursed was just happenstance," Sebby says for Rod. "But I can respect the sentiment and will do as you ask. I will also let you know if I find that Sir Alcaster is searching for anyone of your description."

I shrug. "Father says that I can't see the good in people, and I tell him that he doesn't see the bad clearly enough. Father's way might be perfectly useful if no one desired his power, but he is the king and someone always desires the king's power."

Rod simply nods to myself and Parfait, apparently too shaken to say goodbye properly before leaving. _Well, at least this time he hasn't spoken about hating me. I doubt that Rod thinks that I genuinely care for him or his family, but he would believe me territorial…and it is kind of hard to work in an "I hate you" while I give him advice in protecting his family._ The small change of me attempting to be nice to Emelaigne has turned into a plausible way for me to 'find out' about the coup before its oncoming signs are obvious, and warn my family. Perhaps, if Rod finds proof of what I am saying, my father might believe him.

I also recognize that I will not choose Rod. For a relationship to even work between us in the long term, I would have to have Rod fake his death, put a glamor on him and give him a new identity so no one recognizes him, and then marry him. Even then, it would be possible for it to get out as the most powerful witches and fairies may be able to see through my glamour and then the cat would be out of the bag. Or, my secret could be used for blackmail. It could make me more susceptible to the corruption of the Tenebrarum.

When it comes down to it, we would both be better off with someone else.

I look up and notice Parfait looking at me as if I have suddenly grown a third arm. "What?" I ask her. "Did you just find out that the cute little puppy you were going to train has teeth? Or do you simply think I'm paranoid?"

"Well…" she starts.

"You accepted Jurien and Garlan into your party. You would not have done so had you believed them liars. You know that Sir Alcaster is plotting against my father," I say.

"Yes," Parfait admits. "However, I do not know his methods, timetable, or final goals. I did not know about the possibility of him having an evil witch at his disposal before you told your brother your theory. It could still be chance…more people are being cursed all the time."

"I prefer to prepare for the worst," I reply. "Speaking of which, I would like a knife I would be able to hide on my person. I know how to use one." And I do. During one of my go arounds with Karma, I made sure that I was instructed in how to use a knife as well as how to use a sword. "Don't worry, I won't use it on anyone here, despite the way they stare daggers at me."

"I…I shouldn't have left you alone in there," Parfait apologizes. "I'm sorry."

"But you knew how they felt about me? Whatever have I done to them? I've only been out of the palace twice, but most of them appear to hate me personally for some reason!" I tell her. "What have I done or who do they associate me with that makes me so horrible! I know that it can't be my father. He's the very picture of a benevolent king."

"Now…is not the time to explain," she tells me.

"Then when?" I ask.

"So many things have happened to you. I need you to be patient, Lucette," Parfait says, managing to both sound kind and pleading at once. I am being inconveniently perceptive right now. I wonder just how much trouble she expected to have with me, and how I am measuring up to that expectation.

Delora walks into the room, interrupting us. "Has the prince already left?" she asks.

"Yes, yes he has," Parfait says, seemingly grateful for the change of subject. "Princess, we'll talk about this later. For now, you must focus on breaking your curse. And I'll see that you get what you requested."

Delora looks back and forth between the two of us. "Did I miss something?"

"Apparently, the Princess's personal knight was cursed as well, but we can go over that later," Parfait answers.

"Well then," Delora tells her friend. "I think it's time we get down to business. What should we do with her?"

"I'm right here. You needn't talk as if I am in another room," I say.

Parfait smiles at me. "The princess can stay here at the Marchen with me and the rest of my boarders, but you'll have to work in exchange for a room."

"I suppose you have a point in that I have no spendable currency on me at this moment," I say.

"Magic has its limitations," Parfait continues, "just like anything else. Money doesn't appear out of thin air, even for a fairy. The Marchen does not attract many customers since only the cursed and a few others can enter. I sell my potions here and there, but I have several hungry mouths to feed and my funds are tight."

"Parfait," I ask her, "are you broke?"

"Ouch," Delora says. "Even the Ice Princess can tell."

"...After the conversation I just saw her have with her brother, I don't think it's safe to assume that she can't figure something out with even minimal information," Parfait answers.

"But you still take people in even when you can't really afford it? If you go bankrupt, you won't be able to help anyone at all," I tell her.

"I'm told suffocating beneath my debt will be what kills me," Parfait answers, and I make a mental note to reward her with coin once the major concerns are settled. "But it's not like I accept freeloaders. All my boarders help me run the Marchen and run errands."

"The Princess has never worked a day in her life. I doubt she will be useful," Delora says.

"If Karma can be useful, anyone can," Parfait tells her friend.

"Hmm? I have yet to see Karma be anything but useless," Delora remarks.

"…I can sew," I get out.

Delora blinks at me. "What was that?"

"I can sew. I haven't done it for a long time, but it's the only domestic skill I possess," I get out as if I am reluctant to admit that I can do anything so menial.

Delora blinks, as if surprised that I am actually volunteering for something.

"There may not be enough mending to earn your keep that way," Parfait answers. "I do thank you for volunteering something, anyway."

I shrug. "Of course I had to come up with something. I simply do not underestimate the witch's ability to come up with something demeaning for me to do if I cannot think of a suitable alternative."

….

 _Author's note_

 _Hmmm…people are reading, but only one person is reviewing so far…and I love (and will answer) reviews. Perhaps I should go plan some fiendish cliffhangers or plot twists now to see if I can get any more…._

 _*runs off cackling*_


	6. A 'New' Arrival

**Chapter 6. A 'New' Arrival**

I remember missing my silk sheets the first time around, but have now gotten use to the subpar bedclothes of the Marchen. I remember missing my dolls as well, but I now find that I have long since grown out of them. I now consider my dolls ornamental, rather than the only friends that will never betray me. I am still trying to go to sleep, though, when I hear Garlan running down the hall yelling for Parfait. Guessing that Rumpel has finally arrived, I get out of bed and enter the reception room to investigate.

As usual, Waltz, Jurien, and Garlan are there with anxious looks on their faces. "Well?" I ask them. "Is the inn on fire?"

"No," Jurien says. "Sorry, did we wake you?"

"Garlan did," I say. "So, what is the big emergency then?"

"Jurien and I found an injured man while we were doing our rounds," Garlan explains. "We brought him here."

I do not ask them what they were doing outside. I don't know why I did the first time when they clearly said they were on patrol.

"Lady Parfait and Annice are tending to the man now," Waltz tells me, and then his eyes turn to Jurien. "Do you think the witches got to him?"

"It's possible," Jurien admits. "We'll have to find out when he wakes up."

"Well," I decide, "if there's nothing I can do about it, I'm going back to bed." I know that Rumpel will be fine…relatively speaking…in the morning, so at least I can sleep the rest of the night in peace. I guess that the others, without this knowledge, will not sleep as well as I plan to.

When Parfait tells everyone that the man only has minor head injuries and that she expects him to wake soon the next morning, there is a collective sigh of relief. Instead of being surprised when Annice hands me a tray for the stranger, I wonder how she thinks it is advisable to present a man with a head injury food and utensils before assessing him in his conscious state. One time with Chevalier…Rumpel…I took a good look at journal entry he had labeled as head injuries. The injury could have impaired his ability to swallow without chocking, increased his tendency to vomit or have seizure activity, given him weakness in one or both sides of his body, never mind the effect the injury could have on his memory, cognition, safety awareness, or ability to speak.

However, I know that his memory loss is from his curse. His lack of inhibitions in certain circumstances and occasional emotional lability, though, could very possibly be from the head injury.

Delora comes up to walk alongside me. "You look as if you expect that tray to bite you," she says.

I sniff. "I'm am merely wondering at the advisability of presenting an unconscious man with food. If he wakes and the head injury is bad enough, he may decide to paint with his breakfast instead of eat it. Or perhaps wear it."

Delora actually quirks a smile at that. "You may have a point. However, Parfait did not seem to think the injury _that_ bad."

"Are you just here to enjoy my company?" I ask, and Delora shakes her head.

"As much as I enjoy your warm, glowing countenance, no," the witch says. "I have something to ask the man that was brought in last night. Seeing as you're being good enough to deliver breakfast, I thought I'd just tag along with you."

"Perhaps, if we're lucky," I reply, "he'll at least be able to get his own name straight." And I know that his name will be the very thing he will not be able to tell us.

When Delora knocks at the door, as I cannot with my hands full, Rumpel's voice calls for us to come in. When we enter, he is over by the window looking at a notebook. "Good morning," Delora says. "It's good to see you awake and breathing."

Rumpel turns his head, and his eyes widen as he sees us both standing there in his room. "Am I…dead?" he asks.

"If you dare ask if we're angels, I will find something to hit you with," I say dryly, and then I remember that Rumpel loves this kind of response.

"Hmmm…as feisty as you are beautiful!" he says with a grin, but then frowns. "I see you have already heard that line, though." And then he smiles again. "Apparently, I am but one of the many men to refer to you as an angelic creature, and I can see immediately that we are not wrong!"

"I have no doubt that you are the _only_ man to ever call this girl an angel," Delora says dryly.

Rumpel's smile does not fade. "What can a humble gentleman like myself do for you lovely ladies?" he asks. When we do not immediately answer, he says, "Ah, you could join me on this bed! It's very comfortable, and there is room for both of you."

"I'll follow your lead on this one, Princess," Delora tells me.

I briefly consider flirting back with Rumpel, and then telling Delora that now she has to do so as well. I consider this, _very_ briefly, before rejecting it.

"Princess?" Rumpel asks. "Of, of course! Such a beautiful lady could only be a princess! Look at the noble way you hold up the tray!"

I turn to Delora. "If I were to hit him on the head with this tray, would he only stay in this condition longer?"

Delora sighs. "Quite possibly. However, I'm still tempted to let you do it."

"Oh, be still my beating heart… _two_ beautiful, feisty ladies," Rumpel sighs.

Parfait walks into the room at this point. "Oh, he's awake!"

"Another lovely lady has entered my chambers?" he says, sounding like all of his dreams have just come true. "I don't think my heart can handle the perfection of three of you at once!"

"I think I know how Casanova here got those head injuries," Delora deadpans. "Some lady decided that she'd had enough of his rubbish, and wanted to punish him."

"Delora, patience," the fairy tells her friend. "He may not even be in the right state of mind right now. He did take injuries to the head, after all."

Then, Rumpel stares at me. "You're familiar," he says. "But…no, it's impossible! Aren't you the crown princess? What are you doing here?"

"Obviously," I tell Parfait, "we have just discovered another curse victim for your collection."

"You make it sound like I sit you all up on shelves to admire," Parfait sighs.

"Well, he's definitely not a witch or a fairy," Delora puts in. "So, you are right Princess."

"What is your name, good sir?" Parfait asks, and Rumpel suddenly becomes downcast.

"I would answer any question you ask of me, madam, but…I don't remember," he says, looking at his notebook.

"Amnesia?" Delora considers.

"I know everything about Angielle," Rumpel says, "and yet…I don't know the first thing about myself. Except that I have the Rumpelstiltskin Curse."

"I knew it," Delora says, "he's got the Fairytale Curse."

"Fairytale Curse?" Rumpel asks.

"Do you remember how to break it?" Parfait asks.

"From what I remember," Rumpel says, "I need to somehow collect three memories and get them to appear in this journal as entries." He proffers his notebook. "My first memory is waking up and holding this. I thought there would be information in here, but its empty."

"Another victim of the curse," Parfait sighs. "You must be tired. Lucette will leave your breakfast here and we'll give you some time to yourself. We'll be outside if you need anything else."

I place the tray I have been holding the entire time on the nightstand as soon as Delora gets out of my way enough to do so, and then follow the other two women out of the room.

"Rumpelstiltskin…" Parfait muses. I simply nod, not caring to prod them into telling me the story that I know, and have a plausible way of knowing. There are, after all, several books of fairytales in the Marchen's small library. I make myself a note to leave one on my bedside table, even though I have no plans to read it again. If it looks as if I am reading one, it will give me a plausible way of knowing the various tales.

"Well," Parfait continues, "the Marchen is opening soon. I expect another busy day."

"Especially for you, Lucette," Delora says with a smile that somehow manages not to be predatory. "You need to start coming up with good deeds."

I blink, wondering which deeds I will undertake this time. But then again…since I have done this so many times, I consider myself fairly good and hardly anything like the girl that suffered the curse the first time. What would happen if I were to break my curse too soon? Would I be caught in the coup and thus in an even more dangerous situation?

Of all my goals, ensuring my mother's final death is the most vital. If I am in Myth's hands before I turn eighteen, that drastically elevates the level of risk of her getting loose. _If that happens, I'd have to convince Myth that he has more to gain from me than from my mother_. And it sounds like a ludicrous plan. He worships my mother. And, he would never believe me 'suitable' for anything if he knows that I've been good enough to break my curse.

As a stopgap measure, I should be at least by one good work shy of breaking my curse by my eighteenth birthday so I have excuse not to return to the palace. However, I should manage at least one, or else the denizens of the Marchen will think that I am not trying to change at all, which could complicate matters. Two would be better, but I cannot help but think that I may have to perform a third good work out of necessity, and then break my curse on accident.

"You look like you are a million miles away, Princess," Parfait says to me.

I startle, and realize that I have been standing in one spot in the hallway. Delora has gone, but the fairy is still standing there, looking at me quizzically. "I was considering possible benefits of not breaking my curse as soon as I possibly could," I tell her truthfully, though not what I thought those benefits might be.

Parfait blinks, and I think that I may have startled her. "Was your life in the palace truly so awful?" she asks me.

 _Surely the spoiled, pampered princess will want to return to her soft life as fast as possible._ That is what I would think, were I her in her position. But there is other logic that she would believe, and it is still true enough for me to give it voice. "It was formal…cold," I tell her. "There was no warmth, only expectations. I don't know if I will like this life better or worse, but at least it is something different."

Parfait opens her mouth, and then closes it again. She wants to tell me that there is warmth here, but she knows how her customers treat me because of who my mother was. She must shrink her circle smaller. Sure enough, when she does speak she tells me, "Those of us that live at the Marchen consider ourselves family, though none of us are related by blood. If you wished it, we would welcome you as one of our own."

"Considering I will be here an indeterminate amount of time," I say, "we may as well be on congenial terms. And I do want you to answer the rest of my questions, one of these days."

Parfait's motherly smile turns just slightly nervous at the end of statement. She is really not looking forward to the day she must answer the rest of my questions.

….

Parfait has taken Rumpel in, as he currently has nowhere else to go. He has recovered enough to work later in the day and, being Rumpel, is putting more effort into flirting with the customers than delivering his trays. This, as it always does, annoys Delora.

"I will never understand Parfait," Delora tells me, after telling Rumpel off for his flirtations. "That amorous waste of space is about as useful as Karma."

As if on cue, Karma enters the door of the inn, proclaiming, "I've returned!"

"Speak of the devil," Delora mutters.

"Did you miss me?" Karma asks, having been absent since sometime yesterday. And my ears prick up. What happens next is always amusing.

"Why am I carrying these?" Waltz asks, coming through the door after Karma.

"Because," Karma explains, "you made me run that errand for you at the toyshop the other day. And because gentlemen carry things for ladies."

"I am going to drop them now," Waltz threatens.

"Those boxes contain very important contents!" Karma insists. Waltz shrugs and puts the packages on one of the tables.

"Welcome home, Miss Karma," Annice tells him, coming from around the counter where she has been polishing silver. "Nice to see you've survived the trip, Waltz."

"Thank you Annice," Waltz replies.

Rumpel comes forward, as if in a trance, but Karma only appears to see him standing there. "So, this is our new housemate?" Karma guesses. "We have not had the opportunity to meet. I am…."

I am the only one not surprised when Rumpel reaches out, and grabs Karma's hand and looks deeply into his eyes. I am trying very hard not to smile.

"My life before this moment has been a depressing monochrome," Rumpel croons. "Now that you've entered by bleak existence I see everything in beautiful, blazing color. And nothing shines more brightly, more vividly, than you."

Forget trying not to smile. Now I am trying not to laugh. My lips are starting to hurt from trying to restrain them.

"I am Rumpel, my sweet," he says with what I am sure he thinks is a charming smile. "Let us talk of marriage."

Karma remains silent, and I now have both hands over my mouth to attempt to restrain what I think may actually be giggles.

"Answer, my angel," Rumpel finishes. "I beg of you."

Karma's face darkens. "Keep…."

"Say the word and it is done!" Rumpel declares.

"…your filthy hands off of me!" Karma growls and removes his hand from Rumpel's to slap him.

"Ow!" Rumpel says, shocked.

"Not again," sighs Waltz.

It is now getting much harder to restrain my giggles. Poor Klaude. However, he probably deserves this for being such a heartbreaker himself.

"I would never be interested in the likes of you," Karma snarls.

"Go on lad, give him a good beating!" one of the customers yells. "Like the one you gave to me!"

"My queen," Rumpel stammers, "there is no need for violence."

" _What_ did you call me?" Karma asks, still snarling.

I am quite sure that my face is now red from trying not to laugh, but no one has noticed due to the other events in the room.

Annice rushes over to try to make some peace. "Please calm down, Rumpel is still recovering!"

Waltz apparently decides to enter into the conversation before Karma paints the walls with Rumpel's blood. It's probably a good idea, as I am currently incapable of coherent speech. "Karma is a man," Waltz explains to the amnesic Casanova. "Doesn't take kindly to being flirted with, or proposed to."

"But your voice, your face!" Rumpel exclaims, apparently finding this hard to believe. He at least has some excuse for mistaking Karma's voice for female, because Parfait makes him a potion for it as part of his disguise. "Your breasts!"

This time, Delora slaps him, and I suspect she is happy for the excuse. " _That_ is what you are focusing on? Pervert."

"I worship all aspects of the female form, but my particular favorite has always been…" Rumpel tries to say before Delora slaps him again.

"Ow!" Rumpel says, with a look of horror because he realizes he has not only just been proposing to a man he had thought a beautiful woman, but he was caught goggling at the other man's 'breasts.'

Some doctor _he_ is.

"Do yourself a favor," Delora says, "and shut up."

In the silence that follows that, the people around me finally hear my snickering, and heads turn towards me in surprise.

And I cannot take it anymore. I burst out in loud, clearly audible laughter. As even more visibly shocked faces now turn to me, I run out of the dining area into the reception area and throw myself into the couch.

I grab a pillow, trying to stifle the laughter that I cannot stop for some reason. When it finally dies down, I look over the top of the pillow to see Waltz, Karma, and Rumpel standing there. No Delora though. _She's probably still standing in the dining room, mouth wide open like a fish._ And the thought makes me start laughing again.

When I finally stop laughing enough to put the pillow down, I still cannot hide a smile as I observe the three men before me. Rumpel looks clearly pleased with himself, Karma surprised but somehow triumphant. Waltz…Waltz is wearing a soft smile of his own. _He's just happy to see me smile again, after so many years._

"Oh dear," I say, and try to regain some semblance of my normal expression. "Have I breached some unspoken rule of protocol?"

Rumpel turns to Karma, grinning. "We should be congratulating ourselves. We have done the impossible! We have made this icy rose, the only daughter of the…king," Rumpel just manages to recover from what he had almost said, "not only smile, but laugh! Her laughter just now is the only thing capable of soothing my injured heart, and making all of my embarrassment worth the price."

"Perhaps if I slapped you some more," Karma dryly suggests, "she would laugh again." Still, he sounds pleased that they have managed to discover my sense of humor, and no longer looks inclined to kill Rumple.

"Err…" Rumpel starts, but Waltz interrupts him.

"There's no protocol against laughing, Princess," my favorite witch tells me. "We're actually quite pleased to see that you are able to enjoy yourself again."

 _Again?_ I feel a lingering melancholy. _Waltz use to make me smile…I remember that. That's why he said 'again.'_

"But it's so…well…you can't laugh and look dignified at the same time," I try to explain.

"This is an inn," Waltz reminds me, "not a diplomatic function at the palace. Looking dignified is not a requirement. In fact, most people…err…let their hair down here."

I look at the three men before me, and tilt my head, realizing that from among these three I will choose my lover, and possibly my husband, since I am not considering Fritz or Rod. "Why do you dress as a woman, Karma?" I ask. "Does it have something to do with your curse?"

"Yes, it has to do with my curse," Karma answers, but does not give further detail…not that I expected him to. I have to know him fairly well before he will even give me half of that answer.

"What is going on here?" says a familiar voice.

I turn around, and see Rod looking at the four of us, confused. "This amnesic Casanova," I say, pointing at Rumpel, "just proposed marriage to the cross dressing man seconds after meeting him. It amused me."

"And then you ran, laughing out of the common room," Karma puts in, and Rod looks even more confused. "We weren't sure if we should believe our ears, so we came to investigate."

Rod does not respond for a moment. "Did your curse affect your personality in any way?" Sebby finally asks for Rod. "But then, you started acting strange at breakfast the morning before you were cursed."

I shrug. "I'd expect you would be among the last to complain if my curse _had_ altered my personality in some way. However, I think attitude adjustments appear to be the goal of my curse, rather than the other way around. But yes, I do remember feeling particularly cheerful that morning." _I guess to him, 'strange' means I bit no one's head off._ I doubt Rod knows the contents of the discussion I had had with Father before leaving for town. "I recall deciding to amuse myself at breakfast."

"Is _that_ what you were doing, amusing yourself? You asked Father if he had ever met a good witch," Sebby says for Rod, "and then asked what he had done to reward the witch for helping the kingdom when he admitted that a great debt was incurred."

"It sounded like he had done nothing," I say, as if this was an affront to my moral judgements. "For all I know, this witch could be working on the street somewhere, hiding what he is for fear of persecution."

Waltz is now eying the both of us very carefully, quite cognizant that we are discussing him even if neither of us is apparently aware of it, knowing every word I have said is correct. I wonder if Rod realizes that we are discussing Waltz. It is possible that he does not.

"Yes," Rod says, raising an eyebrow at me. "And when he somewhat sarcastically suggested offering this witch your hand in marriage…."

"…I said that it might be an agreeable proposition, or at least, it was an interesting one," I say, ignoring that Waltz's cheeks are now pink. "The look on Father's face was…delicious."

Rod shakes his head at me. "And here everyone thought you had no sense of humor at all."

"Oh, I do have one," I insist. "It just tends to…disturb…people when I let it out. So few people can tell the difference between when I am being serious and when I am not, that it's not usually worth the effort to bother with it."

Rod blinks, as if he has just figured something out about me. I wonder where he thinks I fall between the points of dry, but harmless, sarcasm and outright sadism. "Is Lady Parfait here?" he asks, getting to the reason for his visit.

Just that moment, Parfait comes into the room. "Prince Rod!" she exclaims. "Perfect timing. Please join us for lunch." 

"I only came to talk to you, Lady Parfait," Rod responds.

"But I'm hungry," Parfait explains, "and I've no wish to make you wait while I eat. Come, join us."

"Please, Your Highness," Annice chirps from behind Parfait. "I've made too much, as usual. You must help us finish."

Rod considers for a long moment. "Very well," he finally answers.

"A cursed princess _and_ a cursed prince!" Rumpel chimes in.

"Rumpel, we've noticed," I say dryly. Sometimes, I wonder how I ever had the patience to deal with him. And then I remember that I had finally gotten a 'good' ending with Klaude, but that had not stopped the cycle. I had been rather depressed at the time.

"What an eccentric collection of friends you have, Lady Parfait," Rumpel finishes.

"I wouldn't say they were eccentric, necessarily," Parfait says. "But you are not the first today to refer to all of you as a collection."

"You are the most eccentric one here, Rumpel," Delora says, on her way to the private dining room where the special meal to welcome the new boarders is taking place.

"Really now?" he asks, quite possibly pleased with the designation.

Personally, I would think Karma much more deserving of that particular honor. Surely a cross-dressing prince that can turn into a beast is more eccentric than an amnesic physician that is generous to a fault.

We all go to sit down for lunch, and it occurs to me to wonder if the Marchen is closed for lunch because the staff are having this celebration. As I remember, the atmosphere is lively and friendly. Once, I was unused to it but now find myself at ease in this pleasant company. But then I have to pretend to be at least slightly uncomfortable as I am new here. I find a place between Annice and Waltz, far from the other end of the table where Rod and Parfait are sitting. I assume that Rod wants whatever privacy from me that he can get. After all, he certainly does not come here to see me.

I deliberately take a large helping of the pork and apples, and begin to dig it. No one expects me to talk with my mouth full, and Annice's cooking rivals that of the royal chiefs. However, I can't help but notice the place settings only have one fork, even after spending years of time at the Marchen. I guess some things are still engrained.

"You seem to be enjoying your food," Annice says happily, when I have nearly finished my first helping.

"I like just about anything with apples in it," I say, using the last piece of pork to clean the rest of the sauce off my plate.

"I know," Annice tells me. "Delora said it was one of your favorites."

I raise an eyebrow. " _Delora_ gives consideration to my comfort? It's true it's her fault I'm here, but you can't exactly make up for cursing someone by giving them their favorite foods."

"Delora…" Waltz starts, choosing his words carefully, "considers this an instructional curse. Like a kind of forced tutoring session. This does not mean that she wants you to be more uncomfortable than absolutely necessary."

"Tutoring, hmmm," I consider. "I wonder if she gives lessons like my mother use to. If so, I know that showing weakness or fear will only move me backwards at best."

Waltz flinches, and then I remember that he had been the victim of my mother's 'tutoring' as well. It occurs to me to wonder how many years he served as her apprentice.

As if on cue, Delora chimes in. "So, have you made any progress on how to do those good deeds, Princess? Oh, I forgot you're not so good on the doing good front."

"And you are sarcasm made flesh," I answer her, "instead of being the least bit of help in pointing me in the right direction."

"Why don't you ask someone to teach you how to do good?" Parfait suggests.

"I need to find a 'goodness' tutor now?" I ask.

"If you're having so much trouble on your own," the fairy tells me, "you should ask someone to give you some advice, or teach you. It's as simple as that."

"Considering you broke my curse Princess," Waltz chimes in first this time, "I'd be more than happy to help you in any way that I can."

"I'm sure your stepbrother would be happy to help you as well," Parfait says, but both Rod and Sebby avoid confirming her assumption. My stepbrother would simply not spend his time with me by choice, especially not when others are eager to offer me their services.

"What is this I hear?" Karma asks. "The princess needs advice? Well then, she is in luck. I happen to give the most excellent advice, and believe me when I say that I can teach almost anything."

I consider asking Karma for sword lessons again. Under his tutelage, I have gotten better than merely competent with a blade, although not as good as a knight. I know the exercise is probably good for me…I do less fainting when I am in good physical condition and I consider fainting undignified…but I am returned each time at the start of the cycle to my previous frail condition. I am not looking forward to what my muscles will suffer the first weeks of practice.

Rumpel seems incapable of letting Karma's offer to me lie unchallenged. "The princess is indeed lucky as I am available for teaching duties. No doubt I'd be the better choice as I don't go about deceiving the world."

"Excuse me," Karma says, darkening, and I decide that I've had enough of them fighting. Really, they've been fighting for years as I go around and around. This really needs to be nipped in the bud, for everyone's good.

"So, someone that needlessly antagonizes people is suggesting he has the capacity for teaching me goodness?" I ask Rumpel.

"But the man broke my heart!" Rumpel protests.

"If your curse required you dress as a woman," I say, as if explaining something to a small child, "how would you feel about men flirting with you? Would it be fair of another man to blame you for breaking his heart when you had done nothing to encourage him?"

Rumpel is quiet for a long moment, and Karma's face no longer looks like a thundercloud. Finally, Rumpel answers, "If I had done nothing to encourage him, it would be unfair of the other man to accuse me in such a way." He turns to Karma. "I apologize."

And then, before anyone else can react, there is a bright light and I end up with the first piece on my necklace.

I have gotten my first good deed.

 _Crap._


	7. Taking the Broom as Ally, and Sneakiness

"I suppose you consider it necessary that I labor," I tell Delora the next morning. She and Parfait are still discussing what chores I should have. "At least that's better than accepting charity."

"Of course it's necessary, Princess," Delora replies. "You work to show you can be useful. No freeloaders at the Marchen, remember? And you're right, the princess peasant must either work, or find charity elsewhere."

"Stop teasing her, Delora," Parfait intervenes. "Lucette has had a lot thrown at her already."

"I'm only speaking the truth," Delora claims. "Besides, working to live is the commoner's way of life, but at least it's rewarding."

"And I suppose it's fair that I earn the bed, food, and clothing I have been accommodated with in some way," I say, and Delora blinks at my statement. "I suppose I could offer financial reimbursement to be paid once my curse is gone, but the choice to accept credit is always up to the merchant, not the customer who offers it."

"Err…yes," Delora says, clearly surprised that I am being so agreeable.

"Let's see…" Parfait considers. "What about cooking duties?"

"No way," Delora says. "She'd burn a salad."

"She could be a receptionist?" Parfait asks.

"Then we'd lose all of our customers," Delora replies.

"That's…probably true," Parfait admits.

"Do you have any useful skills at all?" Delora asks me.

"I told you that I can sew," I bite, "but apparently, you haven't been carried away by enough birds to make that skill worthwhile enough to earn my keep."

Delora rolls her eyes at me, but Parfait exclaims, "Aha! I have found the perfect job for our Cinderella."

"Am I cleaning the fireplace?" I ask, but Parfait casts her spell, and a broom with a bow appears.

"Lucette will be in charge of sweeping the Marchen floors," the fairy declares.

"It's better than the fireplace," I grumble.

"Perfect," Delora says with a smile. "Even _she_ should be able to do that. Could you, Princess?"

I say nothing at first, staring at the broom. "The big end goes on the floor, right?" I finally answer.

"But look!" Parfait tries to convince me. "I even put a cute little ribbon on the broom just for you. It's your very own, special broom."

"Why must it have a bow? It's unbecoming," I say, getting an idea of how to avoid Delora pulling me around the floor with the broom.

"But it's so cute," Parfait insists.

I raise my chin, looking down at the floor over my nose. "You have given me the floor of the Marchen as my territory, and it _shall_ bend itself to my will by being clean. Sir Broom is my only ally in this matter, against our common enemy of dirt that invades my lands." Parfait blinks, possibly wondering if I am teasing her or going mad. "A bow is not an appropriate decoration for a knight of my lands. Ribbons are only appropriate for knights when medals hang off of them, and Sir Broom is yet too inexperienced to have earned such awards."

I remove the bow, hand it to Parfait who continues to stare at me, pick a corner of the room, and start to sweep. Delora almost looks disappointed. _She no longer has an excuse to put a spell on my broom._ I have to keep myself from grinning. _I bet she was looking forward to having fun with that. But I won this time. Ha!_

The pair leave for a cup of tea, and I continue to sweep until the floor is spotless. Before I am completely finished…I still sweep slower than the frenzied rate Delora's Mr. Broom sweeps…Karma comes in.

"Princess, Parfait sent me to check…" he trails off. "How lovely! I can see my reflection on the floorboards. I'm impressed."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You are also standing in my dust pile!"

"Goodness," Karma responds, carefully moving out of the dust pile, trying not to spread it about. "I didn't know princesses could be such terrifying creatures. You are aware that the Marchen is opening soon, yes? The floor isn't going to stay clean forever."

"Then do not open the Marchen," I say, "or make them remove their shoes at the door."

"I do sympathize with you Princess," Karma tells me. "It's difficult adjusting to the commoner's life."

"Then I take it you are no commoner, either," I respond.

"Oh, did I let that slip?" he asks. "That was my mistake." His eyes gleam with mischief as he watches me finish my task.

That night, I gratefully rub some of Annice's salve she had used on my feet into my hands. The redness and pain decrease. I check my feet, which appear to be healed from that first cursed, shoeless day.

The first time this happened, I remember being somewhat desperate at around this point, deciding to swallow my pride enough to ask everyone and anyone for advice on being good, thus how to break my curse. When simple advice proves insufficient for me to actually get any good works accomplished, I eventually team up with one of the young men that eventually pay me court.

But each time, whether I reach a happy or horrifying ending, I wake again to find Delora on my shelf. At first, after a bad ending, I had thanked my lucky stars for a chance to try again. But now it is so tiring…it is as if none of my actions ever mattered. Every time it happens now, I ask myself what it will take for it to stop.

I am raw.

I am exhausted.

I close my eyes, and lean against the bedpost, wishing that the skin salve would do something for the headache I am getting from thinking about this.

Only Parfait's advice, gleaned from last time once I convinced her of my predicament, is there to guide me. I must find the balance within myself to successfully convince the Tenebrarum that I am now a suitable caretaker. I must not be wholly good or evil, my actions must bring about both pain and healing like a physician cauterizing a wound. There must be both rain and sunshine for plants to grow. Pragmatism rather than gain or loss must guide me.

And I do not know what it will take for me to live that way. I simply have grown to care too much for the people around me, but on the other hand, they are exactly what Parfait thinks will protect me from the corrupting influence of the Tenebrarum. Surely, the Tenebrarum would not wish me to be so corrupted, that it is not in balance with the Lucis.

Perhaps I must cause pain, but only pain that will give birth to growth; fear, but only fear that will inspire courage; anger, but only when it will lead to joy. But, in practical terms, how will I ever manage that?

Tears of frustration dampen my pillow tonight. But I can only move forward; my only choice is to try again. And if I fail, I will have to try again…and again, until I finally succeed.

At least my stubborn nature is good for something.

…..

I know that the next month is always uneventful. I work, and ask the other boarders about goodness, and they cast their answers in their own strengths. Jurien, for example, always tells me about bravery, Garlan speaks of loyalty, and Waltz tells me it involves making someone happy. After about a week at the inn, much earlier than I usually do, I decide that my hands are now tough enough to handle a practice blade without additional blisters.

I delay putting on my nightgown one night, and go into the common room where I can clearly hear the cracking of the practice blades and wait for someone that can take me outside. In only a few minutes, Waltz appears.

"Princess?" he asks.

"What is that I hear out there?" I ask, pointing toward the sounds.

"Don't worry, that's just the knights practicing," he tells me.

"Hmmm," I consider. "It's not nearly as noisy as when there are dozens of them practicing."

"Did you want to watch them?" Waltz asks me. "I'm going out to practice magic with Delora myself in a moment, and I can leave you with them on the way."

He remembers that I like watching the knights practice. "I would like that," I reply. "Are you taking lessons from Delora?"

Waltz nods. "Yes, I haven't been able to use magic freely for the years I was cursed. I was nearly done with what would traditionally be called my apprenticeship when I was cursed, so I basically need the…finishing touches put on my education."

I know that while Delora does not have his raw power, she has experience and has had time for finesse which Waltz could benefit from. However, he can cast high level spells like teleportation and portals that Delora and nearly all other witches are incapable of. It will not take Delora long to teach him everything she knows. _Waltz is always so modest...except when he is assuring me that he can protect me_. "That might be interesting to watch sometime, too," I say, as I follow him out of the inn.

Waltz smiles at me, and leads me to the glade where Karma and Garlan practice tonight. Jurien must not be coming tonight, as Karma is dressed as a man. We stand on the sidelines, watching, and I notice that Karma sees us but does not let our presence distract him. However, when Garlan does notice us, he stumbles and gives Karma enough of an opening to 'kill' him.

"You let yourself be distracted, Garlan," Karma tells him. "You need to catalogue everything, but only deal with the pertinent."

"I know," Garlan sighs, and then both swordsmen walk to where Waltz and I stand.

"So, you train the knights?" I ask Karma.

"Well, yes," Karma admits, "after Jurien and Garlan begged me to teach them."

I tilt my head as I consider this information. Karma is never modest at all. "It is not uncommon for noblemen to be taught the blade," I say, as if I could mistake Karma for anything else.

"The princess would like to watch you practice," Waltz explains.

"Actually, the princess would prefer to practice," I say, and all three men look at me as if I had just proclaimed that I wanted to fly. Well, two of them do. Waltz just looks at me as if wondering what kind of mischief I am planning to get into.

"Princess, taking up the sword is not an easy task, or one to be undertaken lightly," Karma tries to explain to me.

"I've had lessons," I explain. "Not in public, but I have. I don't pretend to be as good as a knight, but I'm no slouch either."

Karma smiles, and I assume that he means to humor me. He whispers something into Garlan's ear, and the knight nods and turns around as if to leave. "Would you permit a quick test of your skills, Princess?" Karma asks me.

I am aware that Waltz has moved farther away from me, and I hear something land behind me with a soft thud. A practice sword on the grass. He intends to use only his hands to grab me. "Fine," I say, and then fall backwards as Garlan grasps at the air where I was just standing. I push him off balance with my legs, and as he falls, I roll toward where the thud was and come up with Garlan's practice sword in my hands. Before Garlan can finish rising, I have the 'blade' of the practice sword against his neck.

"Does this mean I can practice?" I ask. I notice that Waltz is grinning at me now, and Delora has appeared from somewhere and is now standing beside him watching with interest.

"…Yes," says Karma, quite clearly surprised.

I look down at Garlan, whom I am still holding down with my blade. "You really shouldn't underestimate your opponents, you know," I tell him. "I'm not exactly a delicate flower of a princess. That would be Emelaigne."

Garlan laughs as I remove the blade and he rises. "So, let's see how much you know, Princess."

Karma and Garlan spend the next hour putting me through my paces, seeing what I do and don't know. Unfortunately, I start to tire as my muscles turn to water. When I am finally forced to ask for a stop to rest, I throw myself on the ground and gratefully accept a large mug of water that Waltz has brought me. My hair feels plastered to my face with sweat.

"You are competent with a blade, Princess," Karma notes, looking somewhat impressed in spite of himself. "Your endurance needs work."

"Who taught you?" Garlan asks. He is always curious about this, every time I start practice anew.

"Does it matter?" I ask, after gulping down about half of the mug. "It's no one that remembers teaching me, now." They usually assume Fritz taught me. After all, he is the only knight I appear to have prolonged contact with while living in the palace. Or at least, the knights assume that. I'm not sure what Delora thinks, as Parfait has probably told her that I know my personal knight was cursed, so he would not fit the qualification of 'not remembering teaching me.' "It's not princess-like to be trained with a blade. In theory, whomever taught me may have asked me not to reveal who they were to avoid getting anyone into trouble. Were this the case, telling you would amount to breaking my word."

Garlan nods, understandingly. "It was just a matter of curiosity. I was especially surprised that you didn't panic when I attacked you that first time."

"I heard you behind me," I say, still trying to finish catching my breath. "Besides, panic means disorientation; disorientation means death. And you really shouldn't drop things before you attack people. It lets them know where you are, and you shouldn't leave weapons where an opponent could reach."

Delora laughs from behind me. "I tell you to perform three good deeds, and you start critiquing Garlan's methods of attack."

"Am I wrong?" I ask her, turning around. "If the knights are training, they are trying to build their skills. Would assisting them in doing so not be considered good?"

"Well, it is not a bad thing," Delora admits, "but perhaps not good enough to earn another good work. Even though you do appear competent, they would likely be training you more than you training them."

"I don't see a problem with that," I tell her. "Teaching someone else can be the best kind of education for oneself. Unless, of course, the knights do not wish me to train with them," I say, my eyes trailing back to Karma and Garlan.

The two swordsmen look at each other, then nod. "I have no objection," Karma says.

"Nor do I," Garlan replies, and then grins. "Jurien is going to be so upset she missed seeing this. Our little spitfire of a princess, fighting. You seem as determined as she was, when she was training."

I shrug. "It's the sort of skill that could come in handy, especially if no one knows you have it. And I'll probably need some training from Jurien, since women fight a little differently due to having more muscle in our hips than our arms."

Delora narrows her eyes at me. "Wait…when were you not in your room long enough to train within the six months? I don't ever remember you coming back to your room sweaty."

"Who said I had my lessons within that time, while you were watching from my shelf? Or if I had that I had not wiped the sweat from my brow and changed clothing before returning?" I ask, springtime and innocence. "It's not like I tell you dolls everything. I can be sneaky when I want to be."

Waltz starts chuckling from the sidelines. I wonder what he remembers, but I don't.

"Sneaky?" Delora asks me.

"You know, it's odd," I tell her, as if remembering something. "I remember not getting caught by my mother in misdeeds much more often than getting caught." Waltz is no longer laughing. "But I remember being watched often, so I don't think she was neglectful."

I shrug as if it is of no consequence, as if I don't notice the sudden awkwardness that has descended. "Well, I'm ready to go a little longer if either of you are," I tell the swordsmen.

Karma gives me a smile, and hands me the practice blade as I return the now empty mug to Waltz.

That night, I return to my room exhausted. I barely have the energy to pour water into my washbasin, but when I put my hand on the dresser where it lies, my hand senses something slender. I pick the object up to find a knife shorter than my forearm that fades into the background of whatever it lies upon. The straps on the sheath are adjustable, and I could easily conceal this weapon on my leg or arm for use.

It seems that Parfait has made good on her promise to provide me with a dagger, and has even given me one that is practically impossible to detect. I know that we both hope I will never have need of it, and I have given her my promise to never use it on anyone from the Marchen. But, it is better to be safe than sorry.

I adjust the straps so they will fit around my thigh, and make a note to myself to make a hole in my dress pocket so I can withdraw it from there if need be.


	8. Choosing a Lover

The next morning, I wish I was dead.

Not literally, of course, but every muscle in my body protests at the least amount of movement. Simply getting dressed is painful. Not for the first time, I wish I didn't have to return to my baseline, weakling physical condition every time I start over.

At least I know that these aching muscles will get better in a few weeks…but those few weeks are tough. Still, as always, I refrain from complaining and even manage to get through breakfast without growling at anyone. Afterwards, a couple hours before the Marchen opens for lunch, I see that the floors are caked with dirt and mud.

Fuming, I grab Sir Broom and begin my cleaning and my sore muscles object at every movement. Parfait comes in, and makes some comment that I don't quite hear above my shifting chairs out of the way so I can sweep under them.

I don't respond to Parfait, but I see Garlan come into the common room with packages and muddy boots. "Lady Parfait, your orders have arrived. Where should I put them?"

"At the back please," the fairy responds. "Thank you."

"You!" I yell at him, and Garlan stops in his tracks. "You are dirtying the floor! I'll hit you harder next time if you do that again!"

"Sorry!" Garlan exclaims back at me, broadening his stride as he runs to the back with the packages to leave fewer prints.

"…She will hit him _harder_ next time?" Annice asks Jurien from behind the counter where she is polishing the pewter. Clearly, I have just implied that I have hit Garlan before.

"The princess was out practicing with Karma and Garlan last night," Jurien explains. "Apparently she is decently good with a sword…she's clearly had lessons from someone…but her physical conditioning needs some work. I wouldn't be surprised if every muscle in her body is screaming right now."

"Oh my," Annice says. "Would you like me to make you up a painkiller, Princess?"

I stop my sweeping, and look at Annice. "I'd be ever so grateful," I get out, and all three women start at my response. I must be in severe pain for that response to escape from my lips. _I honestly don't know why I haven't asked Annice to get me something before now._

The door swings open, and one of the local good witches comes in, and all I can seem to see is the mud on her shoes. Given that I am so painfully trying to sweep the floor, the mere presence of the mud offends me.

"Lady Parfait, I must speak with you," she says, and then she notices my glare. "Why is she glaring at me like that?" the witch asks.

"I…believe it is because of your shoes, dear," Parfait explains.

"I have just cleaned the floor," I bite.

"Oh! I am sorry. I will clean up after myself right away," the witch promises me.

"Good," I say, my eyes still narrowed at her. And indeed, witch muddy-shoes does clean up her footprints before following Parfait into another room.

Garlan has just returned from the other room after, I presume, knocking the extra mud off of his boots since they now appear clean.

"The princess is something else," Jurien tells Garlan and Annice. "I've never seen a witch so frightened of someone before."

"Yeah," Garlan agrees.

Jurien turns back to Annice. "You'd better go get her something for those muscles before she kills someone."

By the time I am finished sweeping, Annice returns with something that tastes vile but that she assures me will help. I take the dose she gives me, and manage a quick 'thanks' before I leave. From the look on Annice's face, one would think that I had offered a flowery apology for everything I'd ever said or done.

I sigh as I put Sir Broom back in its closet. It takes so little to make Annice happy. She is such a sweet child. Sometimes, she reminds me a little of Emelaigne. For a moment, it seems odd to me that I think of my older stepsister as a child…but then, with my cycling, I have lived years longer than she. Mentally, I'm probably about twenty-seven now.

I find Waltz sitting in a corner of the tavern reading a book, and sit down beside him. "What are you reading?" I ask him, even though I already know.

"It's actually material I'm looking over for one of my shows," he tells me. "I don't just do magic shows. I perform puppet shows as well. I have to be familiar with several bedtime stories for those."

I nod. Apparently, Waltz is still making his living as an entertainer, even though he is fully grown now. I have no idea why my father did not keep him in the palace, or at least support him with a stipend for what he had done in helping get rid of Hildyr. If Waltz had not wanted to stay in the palace it to avoid the anti-witch sentiment that prevailed in my mother's wake, Parfait could have cast a spell so no one would recognize him. Had he come to the Marchen for the family it offered him? I don't believe that he left the palace to avoid me…unless he couldn't face me not knowing who he was.

Or, it could be as simple as my father had failed him just has he had failed me during that same point in time.

"You should come with me sometime," Waltz invites me. "The children are always so happy at the shows. You might get one of your good deeds helping out. You've got to be patient too. Children can be difficult to handle. But, I know you can be patient when you want to."

I blink. This is different. "You do?"

He smiles at me. "Remember your first good deed? You were very patient when explaining to Rumple why he shouldn't be mad at Karma."

"He has a head injury," I say. "I didn't think he would understand what I was trying to tell him if I'd had said it any other way."

"And I am sure you made life at the Marchen much more peaceful for it," Waltz tells me.

 _No kidding, I know I have._ I _certainly don't miss their pointless bickering._

"I just thought that it was pointless to bicker like that. They would only be disrupting their own, and everyone else's, lives by fighting like that," I say.

"Oh, I agree," he says. "But on the topic of fighting, I was impressed last night."

"How so?" I ask. "I was simply performing what someone else taught me."

"You'd still have to have something of a rebellious streak to learn," Waltz explains. "No one managed to take that away from you."

I blink. "Did you think someone had?" I know he is thinking of my mother, who simply erased my memory of the times she caught me defying her. She had been making me into her perfect puppet, changing me until I was almost incapable of disagreeing with her about…anything at all.

She had been shaping me into a monster, like herself, and that had been what finally prompted him to risk everything by betraying her to Parfait. To him, that I was able to go against custom and learn to fight behind everyone's backs was a signal that there was still something of the girl he had known that had not been erased by the woman that had stolen the rest of his family from him.

"Well…I'm sure most princesses are encouraged to conform to…certain ideals," he tries to explain, giving _a_ truth but avoiding _the_ truth.

Not that I blame him for doing so.

"If someone wants me to conform to something," I say dryly, "they have to convince me that it makes sense first. To do something simply because everyone else is doing it is _not_ a rational reason to do it."

He grins at me.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"You…just reminded me of someone I've missed for a very long time," he tells me, sounding both sad and hopeful at the same time.

"Oh," I say, getting up with a grimace as my muscles protest once more. "I'll let you get back to your reading. Maybe I'll go to town with you for one of your shows sometime."

"You are welcome at any time, Princess," Waltz tells me, and I nod and wander back up to my room where I intend to stay until mealtime, hoping that Annice's concoction will kick in soon.

I lie down on my bed, not bothering to get under the sheets, staring at the ceiling as I think. And I cannot get my most recent conversation out of my head. I come to a realization, and I sigh. _Waltz always loves me, just like Fritz._ I take slow, deep breaths, fighting back the tears. _Klaude and Chevalier came to love me…Rod started out hating me…but Fritz and Waltz always cared._

Even when I choose one of the others, Waltz is always there, helping me in whatever way he can. He smiles, even when it's another man making me smile, simply because I am happy. And while I know that he has loved me for years, I am not really sure in which fashion he loved me. We were far enough apart in years, him turning into a young man while I was still a child, that I am certain he treated me more as a sister than a sweetheart. But, had he hoped for more than friendship once I grew older?

Sometimes, the young men I have loved parade in my mind, arguing about why I should pick them, what they could offer me and what I could offer them in return. Why we need each other. My own mind adds its two cents, telling me certain ones are unfit, listing barriers to either our happiness or the practicalities necessitated by the throne. But Waltz…Waltz simply stands there with his hand held out to me, accepting everything I am, risking everything he is.

And I realize that I can make no other choice. Even if I end up waking to see Delora on my shelf again, I will still want only him for all eternity. We can win each other again and again until time ends, and even if I never manage to stop this cycling, it will still be a good fate.

I will have no lover but Waltz Cresswell from this moment forward.

…..

The rest of my first month drags on. I work in the Marchen during the mornings and some afternoons, in the evenings I practice with the knights, and I ask the other borders for 'being good' lessons whenever the opportunity occurs. It's not really that different from how I usually spend my first month, but Delora doesn't appear to imply that I am a basket case as often because I managed my first good work right off. The inn's customers no longer stare daggers at me, but nor do they seek my company. I might as well be a furnishing as far as the customers are concerned.

My fighting is getting better, my skill and stamina improving. Karma still asks Garlan if he has told Jurien yet, and he always says that has not. I'll have to do something about that eventually, but I may have to be careful about how I time that good work. I've skipped my training a few times to watch Waltz and Delora. It does not take me long to figure out that light and loud noise from magic is either purely intentional, or else a sign or ineptitude. A lightning spell, for example, is supposed to be flashy. But if the witch is trying to transform things, and can do it well, there is very little light or bang.

And Waltz's magic seems even quieter than Delora's despite her years of experience. It does not take me long to discover that she is not teaching Waltz as much as she is playing the foil for him to test his skills on. And he has to take care so he doesn't accidentally hurt her, much like a burly man play wrestling with his young child.

I decide to ask him about it, on the way back to the inn one night after Delora leaves early to help Parfait with something, and he does confirm it. "Yes," Waltz tells me, "there is actually very little else another witch…or at least, one of Delora's strength…can teach me. Not that she is weak by any means…my magic is simply more powerful."

"And there aren't any other witches nearby that are of your ability to help you learn further?" I ask. "Or are you in a league by yourself?"

Even in the moonlight, I can see that his cheeks pink a little bit. He is so modest. "I was something of a child prodigy when I was young," he explains. "I managed to live up to my potential. But no, I know of no nearby uncorrupted witches of my skill and strength level. However, there are always things to figure out by yourself."

I am silent for a moment. "Parfait tells me that the strongest witch is the Tenebrarum Bearer, and that she and Delora seek a return to balance between the Tenebrarum and the Lucis. When I asked if they were having trouble with the current Tenebrarum Bearer, Delora implied that they were but did not elaborate. Is the current Bearer corrupted?"

Waltz almost stumbles as he walks, and catches himself against a tree. "The last one certainly was," he says slowly, "but…the Tenebrarum is in hibernation right now. It's chosen its next Bearer, but that witch has yet to take her burden. But no, she is not corrupted. And I pray that she never is."

"I suppose that could lead to another Great War if she was," I think out loud, as if I do not know that he has personal reasons for such fervent wishes. "And I could see why no one would want that."

Still braced against the tree, Waltz opens his mouth then shuts it again, thinking better of whatever it was he had wanted to say. Instead, he continues to walk.

"Was your previous master one of the corrupted witches?" I ask him, innocently. "If so…you don't have to tell me. I was just thinking that it was odd that she or he hadn't finished your education. It would make sense if your master had died during the Great War to not have finished your education, or else if he or she was corrupted—you would have left them in that situation."

This time, Waltz trips over a tree root and stumbles into me sending us both falling to the ground, and he lands on top of me.

I probably deserved that. At least the grass if soft here.

We lie there for a second, stunned, before realizing what this looks like. "Waltz," I say once my breath returns, "if you don't get off from on top of me, I am going to assume that you are enjoying this."

"Sorry Princess," he stammers as he rolls off of me, and scrambles up to offer me a hand to get up as well. I take it, stand, and brush the dirt from my skirt.

"Really now," I tell him. "If it is too dark to see where you are walking, you should just make one of your little lights so you can see. You _are_ a witch, right?"

His mouth works silently for a moment before he asks, "Are you teasing me, Princess?"

"And if I am?" I ask, allowing a small smile onto my face.

I suppose it is not too dark for him to see my smile, because he breaks into one as well. "You _are_ teasing me!"

"That's right," I tell him, not changing my expression.

He lets out a hearty laugh, and quickly hugs me around the shoulders.

"Since you seem to be enjoying this," I tell him, "I'll make a note of it to do it again."

"My you're a brave one, little star; not only do you go around thumping knights, but you tease witches as well. However, it would be my pleasure to be teased by you," he tells me.

I give him another small smile, and we return to walking towards the Marchen. We are both silent for a minute. "You are right, though," Waltz tells me, serious once more. "My previous master…was corrupted. She died at the end of the war. I had betrayed her to fight for the good, and that is why I was cursed."

"But only the Tenebrarum Bearer can curse another witch, you said that, right?" I say. "Your master was the Tenebrarum Bearer?"

Waltz sighs. I guess he forgot that he told me that. "I won't deny it. Apparently, you remember everything you hear."

"If I think the topic or speaker is of interest, I do," I tell him. "And I found you interesting." Waltz is still trying to figure out what to say to that, when I decide that a little 'embarrassment' might do me good as well. "Wait…if you betrayed the Tenebrarum Bearer to end the war…are you the witch that Father says Angielle owes a great debt too?"

"Err…probably," Waltz admits.

"Oh dear," I say clapping my hand over my mouth, as if just realizing that I know Waltz overheard me talking to Rod about that breakfast conversation. We are starting to near the back door of the Marchen.

Waltz laughs quietly. "Don't worry about it, Princess," he tells me. "It's good to know that you don't think all witches evil, and that you wouldn't reject a proposal from one out of hand."

"You may call me 'Lucette,'" I tell him. "After all, I did say within your hearing that I would be willing to entertain a proposal from you, even if I had no idea who I was talking about at the time. I suppose that could put us on a first name basis."

"Lucette, then," Waltz tells me, a smile on his face and hope in his eyes.

I return a small smile, and when we come to the back door, Waltz opens it for me and I walk through. I go straight to my room, and ready myself for bed. After crawling under the covers, I lie there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling. Somehow, I am sure that he is staring up at his ceiling right now, too, happier than he has been in some time.

 _How long will it be before you find out that I love you, Waltz Cresswell?_


	9. Good Fairy'Bad' Witch and a Show

**Chapter 9. Good Fairy/'Bad' Witch, and Nurturing Hope**

"How are those lessons of yours going?" Delora asks me the next day. "I hope you're not giving anyone a hard time." Parfait is standing beside her, looking back and forth between the two of us.

"I'm pretty sure I could take Garlan in a fight," I say. "Well, if there was a way to distract him a little. Jurien and Karma are less distractible. Maybe if I told Karma his back was open…."

Delora shakes her head at me. "What I can't figure out is why anyone as intelligent as you would pretend to be so dense?"

"Oh!" I say, as if just now coming to the realization. "You mean my being 'good' tutoring sessions!"

Delora closes her eyes. "Yes, that's what I meant. I _cannot_ believe that you aren't taking this seriously."

"Of course I'm taking this seriously," I say in my normal tone. "And I'm actually pretending to be dense to tease you. It amuses me. I'm trying to see if I can give you any grey hairs."

Parfait makes a sound as if she is chocking back a laugh, and Delora looks like she wants to crush something. "Have you tried pairing up with someone?" the fairy asks.

"What does this 'paring up' entail?" I ask.

"Some of the people in the tavern pair up to assist each other," Parfait explains. "Two heads are better than one, as they say."

"It's not a bad idea," Delora admits, "but I would wager there are a…limited…amount of people willing to pair up with the Ice Princess."

"Are you implying that I could not give as good as I get?" I ask.

"Most of the boarders at the Machen volunteered to help her, remember?" Parfait asks. "And I haven't heard any of them retract their offers."

"It's only a matter of time," Delora says.

"What I can't understand," I finally say, before Parfait can tell Delora to stop it, "is you, Delora." Delora blinks, as if she had not expected me to stand up for myself. "You say that you cursed me to help me, that you want me to break my curse. But, when it comes down to it, not only do you not lift a finger to help me decide what to try to do next, you imply that no one else will either.

"Unless you tell me right now that all of this verbal abuse is meant as a motivation to make me break my curse faster, I don't see why I should have anything else to do with you," I finish, staring at Delora.

Delora sighs. "Yes, I was trying to motivate you to break your curse faster, but obviously you've seen through that. You know, sometimes you are too smart for your own good…especially since you left the palace."

I look between the two of them, and I get another idea. "You know what you remind me of? The both of you?" I ask. "Two knights questioning a spy or a criminal. One will pretend to sympathize, and tell the criminal that he does not believe him as bad as circumstances make him appear. He offers aid of some sort, a lighter punishment if the criminal will just confess. The second knight offers threats of death and pain every other breath, and two knights work together to bend the criminal to their will. Exactly how close is that to what you are attempting to do to me?"

The witch and the fairy look at each other, and then at me. "We never intended you come to any harm," Parfait tells me. "Everything we have done; we mean it for your benefit. But yes, I try to encourage you towards the good while Delora has been attempting to prod you to it."

"I don't appreciate being manipulated," I tell them, "even if it is for my own 'good.' This implies that I am a child, unable to choose things for myself. Whatever my circumstances truly are, once you are able to tell me of them, I doubt that I will be able to afford the trappings of childhood much longer. I would appreciate it if you simply acted as you feel without great consideration into what you might or might not 'encourage' me to do."

"You…are not wrong," Parfait admits sadly. "You will not be able to remain a child much longer. I, for one, am happy to treat you as however old you act."

Delora quite nearly throws her hands up in the air. "Well, we might as well abandon a tactic that is apparently useless. However, that does not mean that the goal of you freeing yourself of your curse is unimportant."

I nod, and remember that I skipped asking them what would happen if I did not break my curse. "But why try to make me break my curse faster? Is my curse time sensitive? Do I turn into a pumpkin or something if I don't manage it on time?"

"Um…no," Delora tells me. "You won't turn into anything, or be harmed in any way by not breaking it at any specific time."

"Then you simply find my presence disruptive, and would like me back in the palace far from you?" I ask instead.

It looks like Delora is grinding her teeth again. I'm being too observant for her to answer my questions easily. I know that the real answer is that they want me to learn to be good before my curse dissipates when I turn eighteen and become the new Tenebrarum Bearer.

"It would be beneficial for you to break your curse earlier rather than later," Parfait answers for Delora. "Why is not something that can be well answered today. I do not find your presence unpleasant. But back to the subject of pairing up, it is just a suggestion. You have your choice."

As usual, the dining area is busy that evening and I am pressed into service to waitress. It goes more smoothly, though, when I am not thinking about my choices. After all, I already made one.

…..

After I finish my sweeping the next morning, I do not bother asking Annice where Waltz is. He is where he always is at this time today; in the reception area whispering quietly with Parfait and Delora. And, indeed when I walk in, I find the three of them there once more. I still don't know what they are talking about, but I'm pretty sure that this time Waltz is telling them that he let slip that he was the Tenebrarum Bearer's apprentice before being cursed by her for his betrayal.

I'm sure that they aren't happy with him for it, but there isn't really anything to be done about it. It's not like they are going to order Waltz to stay away from me…not when they know that Waltz once formed a friendship with me, and that would increase his odds of doing so again. At the moment, we appear to be getting along very well indeed. After all, whatever and whoever has any possibility of melting the Ice Princess's heart must be rendered to her. There is simply too much at stake to do otherwise. I seem to remember that Delora gave Rod a friendly shove once…well, it was actually closer to a kick in the pants. And I can't say that he didn't deserve it. My stepbrother can be very petulant sometimes.

"Excuse us, Princess," Parfait says as she and Delora leave me alone with Waltz.

"Good morning Pri…Lucette," Waltz tells me.

"Good morning Waltz," I tell him, and then look over at the table where he has started putting puppets into a box. "I'm guessing that you are doing a show today. I'll go with you, then," I tell him. "You said that I was welcome."

"Yes," Waltz considers. "There might be evil witches out there, though, so I have to ask Parfait."

"Waltz, but _you're_ a witch. Surely you could protect me. Do evil witches _normally_ attend puppet shows?" I ask. "There's always a chance of accomplishing a good deed if I come along."

Waltz smirks, probably at the thought of any of the evil witches he was acquainted with coming to a puppet show, and darts out of the room to find Parfait. He probably wants to make sure that the glamour spell she made so evil witches would be unable to recognize me is intact.

I turn my attention to the puppets in the box. They all appear hand-made with a great deal of detail. I pick one up, examining it. He reenters the room, seeing me inspecting his handiwork. "You did a good job on these," I tell him.

"Thank you," he tells me, looking both happy and sad. I actually taught Waltz how to sew and make puppets years ago. Of course, my doing so was one of the memories my mother erased. I still do remember my mother forbidding me from sewing as she declared that it was not something a crown princess should do.

"I used to make puppets myself, until Mother forbade me," I tell him, and Waltz grimaces. "I think I hid a few where she didn't find them, though."

That last makes Waltz smile again. He is always encouraged if I make mention of myself rebelling against my mother. "Well, Parfait said that it was alright. The show starts in an hour." Waltz gathers up his box, and I follow him to the same street where I saw him when I was with Emelaigne. "It's nice to see you actively trying to break your curse," Waltz says as he starts setting up his puppet booth.

"Parfait suggested that I partner up with someone, and I thought that I would ask you if you were still interested," I tell him.

Waltz almost drops stage of his stand. "You want to partner with me?" he asks, sounding both happy and sad again. The hope in his eyes is almost too much for me to bear.

I have many reasons for wishing my mother dead, but not the least of them is what she did to Waltz by making me forget about him.

"Unless you have an objection," I say. "You did offer to help me…and I have already helped you, albeit on accident. If you've changed your mind, I could always ask someone else…."

"No!" he cuts that suggestion off. I do not jump this time, since I always get this reaction. "No I…I'll do everything I can to help you."

"Okay then," I tell him. I look around, and see that the crowd is starting to gather. "Where do you want me? I presume somewhere you can see me so I won't be kidnapped."

He smiles at me. "I think you'll enjoy this story. I recommend getting a place up front. You'll be able to see all the action that way. I promise the children won't bite you unless you bite them first."

"Fine," I say. "I'll remember not to bite any of them."

"That's my star," Waltz says, smiling, before he disappears into the booth.

The crowd finishes gathering, and I see that as usual there are also adults that stop to see Waltz's show. Finally, Waltz introduces himself and starts his show. Part way through, the little redheaded boy is tugging at my skirt, frightened of the 'evil witch' puppet.

I absently pat the boy's hand, and he grabs mine and holds it tightly throughout the rest of the show.

Waltz continues his show, casting a good witch against the evil witch antagonist. If he has noticed what has happened, he does not give any sign that he has. At the end, Waltz is bombarded with questions from the children that think all witches are evil. "That's simply not true," he answers them. "I've met a good witch, one with a heart more light and loving than any fairy's."

And I have to wonder…is he talking about me? About how I was as a child? Or…perhaps of some family member of his that my mother murdered.

"Thank you, Miss," the boy says leaves.

"You're welcome," I tell him. "Remember, puppets won't hurt you."

The child nods, and runs off to join whatever family or friends he had come with.

"The show was a success!" he tells me, after coming out of the booth.

"Do you always scare children?" I ask Waltz. "One of the little boys was afraid of one of the puppets."

"I saw that you let him hold your hand," he says, sounding impressed. "It was kind of you to stay with him when he was scared. Sometimes just having someone beside you when you are afraid is enough."

"I wonder what that would have been like, growing up," I say. "I was only trained not to show my vulnerabilities. But if I had someone I could trust enough to reveal them to…I can see where that could me help face my own weaknesses."

He is silent for a minute at that. "What did you think of the show?" he finally asks me.

"Adequate for its intended audience," I tell him, allowing myself to be diverted. "I doubt children could grasp a more complicated plot than the simple one you laid out. I also notice that you cast witches in both the good and evil roles, so I assume you are attempting to acclimate these children to the fact that their fairytale books are erroneous on the subject of all witches being evil. I honestly don't know why the adults were watching it, though, unless they were keeping an eye on their own children."

"Well, some of them probably were," Waltz admits. I notice that he does not pretend that I wound him this time, or slip that I usually complemented his stories even when they were silly. After all, I have not really said anything that uncomplimentary, and after his previous slips he is probably being careful not to incur more. "Do you mind accompanying me to the toyshop before we head back?"

"If I am not at the Marchen," I tell him, "I am not delivering trays or sweeping floors."

He chuckles at me as he finishes gathering his things. "Delora says that when Parfait gave you a broom, you declared the floor your territory, the broom your knight, and the dirt your enemy."

"That was enlightened self-preservation," I tell him as we walk towards the toyshop. "I'm fairly certain that Delora would have made the broom drag me around the floor had I not started sweeping voluntarily. And the looks on their faces after I made my declarations amused me."

Waltz shakes his head as he opens the door to the shop for me. "You know, that _does_ sound like Delora's sense of humor…both the dragging someone else with a broom and how you got out of it. I'm beginning to think that you two are more similar than either of you want to admit." He gestures to the shelves. "Feel free to look around, Lucette. I won't be too long."

I shrug. "I can't say that there is anything here that would interest me, but take your time."

"What?" he asks. "You don't like dolls anymore?"

"I did…but then my favorite one turned into a witch and cursed me," I answer with a wry smile.

Waltz grimaces. "Well…I'm sorry she took that from you." And I know that if he tries to get me a gift later, it will not be a doll.

"I was getting a little old for dolls, anyway," I tell him, and he goes about his business while I lean back against the wall instead of perusing the shelves. I remember that I missed my dolls once, but I have long since outgrown them. Momentarily, I hear the young girl saying, "Papa, I want that one!" while pointing to a big teddy bear.

I grimace, knowing that this time I do not have the gold to buy the bear to give to the little girl for her birthday. _Well, there goes one good work…though at this point I should be trying to avoid them._ I try to take solace in the fact that the girl has parents that love both her and each other that I did not, and they are more valuable than the expensive toys I was afforded instead.

"We can't afford that one, dear," her father tells her. "Could you choose something else?"

The girl looks close to tears, but instead rubs her eyes and tells her father, "I understand."

"Thank you for understanding, sweetheart. You're being so grown-up."

"I only need you and Mama to be happy," the child tells him. "I love you Papa."

"I love you too," the man says. Moments later, the child turns around, pointing out of the window. "Papa, look! The king!"

This time, I do not go out into the street. Instead I clutch the windowsill as I look through the window from inside the store. As I remember, my father and my stepfamily are seated on horses waving to the crowds. My father does this every month, to make connections with his people. I always refused to go with him. Even through the glass, I can see how happy he appears.

It was devastating, finding that he appeared happier without me, the first time…and even though I know better now I can't honestly say that I'm comfortable with it. Still, I feast my eyes on his face, and spare a quick glance for Rod. I wonder if he has noticed anything different about the guards yet, or if Sir Alcaster is simply moving too subtly for notice. As always, Fritz is not there today. I have to wonder if he is Varg right now, or if he simply has a different assignment.

"Lucette?" Waltz asks from behind me. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine," I answer him, mechanically.

"You don't look fine to me at all," he notes. "You still act tough even though you're hurting inside."

"Still?" I ask.

Either he doesn't hear me, or ignores the question. Instead, he offers me a handkerchief. "In case you suddenly feel like crying," Waltz offers.

"I am not going to cry…not over this. I'm stronger than that, now," I answer, and Waltz puts the kerchief back into his pocket.

"Crying doesn't make you weak, Lucette." Waltz is silent for a moment. "He's affected by the curse. That's why he can't remember you. That doesn't mean he never cared about you. That's why you're looking so down, right? I saw the way you looked at him."

"If he does…did…ever care for me, he was never good at letting me know about it," I answer.

"He loves you, you know," Waltz tries to assure me. "More than you'll ever know."

"I wish I did know, Waltz," I tell him, "but I don't. Why do you keep talking like you know me and my family? Did you use to live in the palace?"

"I…I'm sorry, Lucette," he tells me. "I can't answer that for you right now."

I sigh. "What is the big secret, anyway? I know your former master took over Angielle, but no one will tell me how. It does stand to reason that she would have 'business' in the palace during the war, though, if she was controlling Father somehow. That could quite easily place you in the palace often."

And he has no answer for that, either.

…..


	10. A Change of Guard

**Chapter 10. A Change of Guard**

"Are you sure this is all you will need?" I ask not long afterward, looking over the long list of potion ingredients Parfait gives me. "It would be more efficient to get everything at once."

The fairy smiles at me. "Well…I suppose there are a few other things I could add to the list. But it would be too much for you and Waltz to carry alone."

I shrug, and point to Jurien who appears to be merely holding up the wall at this point. None of the patrons are being rowdy, and Garlan is still there. "I'm sure she would love a little fresh air."

"Hmmm…?" Jurien asks, as if she was just now enjoying her break. I almost hate to drag her along under the pretense of carry packages, but a sword…hers in particular…might come in handy today if memory serves.

However, Parfait scribbles several more items onto the list and the three of us head towards the apothecary run by one of Parfait's good witch friends.

"Has Parfait been getting in increase in orders lately?" I ask after we are well on our way instead of grumbling about being sent on a chore.

"Yes," Waltz admits. "Demand has certainly increased recently."

"I wonder why…what do Parfait's potions do?" I ask. The only ones I ever remember anyone using in my presence are the one that caused a bright flash that allowed us to get away from capture, the one Karma used to make some knights forget that they had seen me, the one that changes Karma's voice so he sounds female, and the one that made Delora powerful enough to defeat Myth.

"All sorts of things," Waltz tells me, but before he can explain further we arrive at the apothecary.

"How can I help…oh, it's you," the witch, the same one with the muddy shoes, says. "What can I do for you three?"

I hand her the list. "We will need these items."

The witch nods. "I'll collect these for you right away. It'll be only a few moments." She hurries into the back room, and I hear the bell at the entrance of the shop ring.

The two men that usually attempt to rob me during my first night cursed come into the shop. However, this time, they've never seen me before. I skipped that part by going straight to the Marchen. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop them from staring at me. "What do you want?" I ask them.

"Us?" one of them asks. "We don't want nothing. But we heard there's someone that wants a girl that looks just like you."

"And," the second man says, "they're willing to pay _very_ well."

"Who, and why?" Jurien asks, her sword coming out of its scabbard separating me from the men. Waltz practically shoves me behind him, and I am reminded how happy I am that I broke his curse. He hates not being able to defend me.

The first man blinks, as if he has just noticed Jurien and her sword. "Don't worry honey. There's so much gold offered, there's still enough if we split it three ways!" He apparently does not notice burning anger in her eyes as his own flicker to Waltz, who is not holding any apparent weapon, but Waltz is still young and strong enough to be trouble without one. The ruffian clearly does not realize that Waltz is probably the most dangerous witch in Angielle at this point. "Or even four ways. One thousand gold pieces split four ways is still more than you'd ever see!"

Before Jurien can beat the unwashed criminals with the flat of her blade, the air crackles and both men lie unconscious on the shop's floor as Waltz casts his spell. I look around him to observe the men. "Huh," I say, as if this happens every day. "Do either of you think they know enough for interrogation to be worthwhile?"

Jurien and Waltz look at me startled, and then at each other, and I sigh. "Either that's a no," I say, "or else Parfait doesn't make a good truth serum."

Their shoulders relax as they let out a concurrent, deep breath of relief, and I let out another sigh of my own as well. _They act as if they thought I was suggesting we torture them. I doubt Waltz legitimately feared that, but I am my mother's daughter. It's what everyone is afraid of. Of course, they might just be startled that I am taking a kidnapping attempt in stride._

Just then witch Muddy-Shoes comes out—I really don't remember her name—and gasps at the unconscious vagabonds on her floor. "I fear I must apologize for getting something dirty on your floor as well," I tell her. After all, cleaning up after filthy thieves is more trouble than simple mud. "These men were searching for…someone matching my description." I look back and forth between the two witches. "Is there anything either of you can do to make them forget that they found me?"

The proprietor shakes her head. "I'm afraid I don't have a potion capable of that here."

I look to Waltz, who is growing increasingly uncomfortable. "There's a spell that can...make them forget things," he says, uneasily. "But…I have never used it. I have only seen it used."

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," I tell him, guessing that he had only seen this very spell used on me. It must also be an advanced spell if Waltz is capable of it, but the shop keeping witch is not. "I just thought that if they remember me being here, they might attempt to accost me again. Or, they might let their employers know my general location. It probably wouldn't matter if they lost a day or two and awoke with a headache. Your friend could probably just put them in a back alley with a few empty bottles, and they would just assume they had been drunk."

"I do have a few empty liquor bottles," witch Muddy-Shoes says. "The suggestion is a good one."

Waltz frowns, but he concentrates and casts his spell. Afterwards, the other witch kneels beside the unconscious men, checking them. "I would guess they have lost about five hours." Then she frowns. "However…they have still seen your picture somewhere, Princess. It burned itself to dust as soon as they saw it."

I nod. "It was not a human, searching for me then. I presume it was not a fairy, because Parfait already has me. Which would only leave a witch—and if memory serves they are more fractured as an association than the fairies—and one that can afford to pay a king's ransom. That should do for now." It was as much as Fritz had gotten out of them. Fritz is probably still somewhere nearby, thus the need for Jurien. If he sees me with her, it is more likely to put his mind at ease and he won't try to follow me. "Well, I guess we'll collect our packages and leave then."

Jurien just looks at me. "You were just the subject of a failed kidnapping attempt, and you want to finish your _shopping_?"

"Why not?" I ask. "If you need to hit someone with a sword later, you can just put the packages down first." I look over at the men again. "If I had to take a guess, at this point at least, whoever is looking for me is more concerned with ground coverage than the quality of the search. These men are ruffians, not professionals. There probably aren't any more in the area, if their employer at least bothered to organize them anyway."

Jurien doesn't really have an answer for me, but looks out the front window to make sure we remain unobserved as Waltz transports the two men through the shop's back door and the other witch finishes gathering what we came for.

The three of us gather our packages, and walk back out into the crowded street. While I have never enjoyed carrying packages, at least it gives me the excuse to walk slower and I don't tend to lose my companions as often. However, this does not stop people from bumping into me.

"Excuse me…" I hear a familiar voice say after being accidently jostled. " _Princess_?!"

I look up to see Fritz staring at me, as if he cannot believe his eyes. "Don't say that in the middle of the street," I tell him, and then jerk my head towards the nearest alley. My companions follow me around the corner. "Let me do the talking," I tell Jurien quietly, and she nods even though I know she doesn't trust Fritz. I know Waltz is unlikely to do any talking anyway.

"But Princess…where have you been," Fritz says, looking around to make sure that no one I have not invited is there. He also looks like he is restraining himself from bowing or kneeling before me since I appear to require secrecy. "And Lady Jurien…I was told that you had left Angielle but I am happy to see you. At least the princess isn't wandering around without protection. And who…?" he trails off, looking at Waltz who he clearly does not recognize. "Did you know how worried I was when I woke up one day and realized Princess Emelaigne was in your place? To make things worse, no one remembered you. Not even the king. When I brought up 'Crown Princess Lucette' everyone thought I was delusional."

I hold back a sigh, and place my package on an upturned barrel—this will not be short. I know Varg has access to all of Fritz's memories, and Myth has access to what Varg knows. Anything I tell Fritz, I might as well be telling Myth and probably Sir Alcaster. But, that could have its uses. "I was cursed, Fritz," I explain. "One of the effects of my curse is that everyone forgot about me. The only way everyone will remember me, so I can return to the palace, is for me to break my curse."

Fritz's eyes widen. "Cursed? I…I am so sorry, Princess. Is there anything at all I can do to help you break it, or to protect you while you work on it? I'm still your knight," he tells me, "and you still need protection. It's not like you can handle a sword, yourself, or that I would ask you to even if you could."

Jurien's eyes widen, but Fritz does not appear to notice. Her and Garlan's favorite theory identifying my combat instructor has just been demolished.

It does no harm to tell Fritz that which Myth is sure to already know. "While I am working on my curse, I am under the protection of the Lucis Bearer and those who serve her. I am safer with her than, say, in your house for example."

Fritz's mouth tightens, as his house would have been his first choice of my location. But, no powerful fairy resides there…and aside from protection, he knows that a fairy might be of more help with curses than he ever could. And this will give him enough peace of mind that he will cease his searches for me, and he will not walk into the tavern of the Marchen. After all, everyone trusts the Lucis Bearer…except those that are evil.

I do not mention that the fairy's best friend gave me the curse.

"I take it that Lady Jurien and…this man…are part of the protection the fairy provides you with? I am happy to see Lady Jurien with you, at least," he says, eyeing Waltz. And I have to wonder if Fritz does not know the real reason Jurien and Garlan were discharged from the order. If he does not, he may believe that the given reason for their discharge was unjust. Come to think of it, I believe that he thought she and Garlan had left Angielle voluntarily.

"Simply because another man uses a different weapon than you," I tell Fritz, "does not mean that he is not more dangerous than you." After all, Myth undoubtedly knows that Waltz is among Parfait's people. There is a good chance that he knows the curse was broken, since it had happened in clear daylight during one of Waltz's performances. But, since he may not already know, I do nothing further to identify Waltz or his abilities.

Fritz blinks at Waltz, but eyes him with more respect. Perhaps, he believes that I have implied that Waltz is a fairy. After all, it would make sense for the Lucis Bearer to be served by her own kind. Fritz has few enough equals with the sword, thus anyone potentially more dangerous than him would probably be magical.

"What I am more interested in," I say, "is why _you_ remember me, Fritz. Are you a fairy in disguise, or perhaps a witch?"

"No," Fritz tells me, "of course I'm not! I'm definitely human. But what does that have to do with why I remember you?"

"My curse makes people forget me," I explain again. "To not be affected by my curse, a person must either have magic of their own, or else be cursed themselves. If you do not have magic, the only reason you could remember me is if you were also cursed."

"Cursed?" Fritz asks, looking shaken.

"Did you ask a witch for anything?" I ask. "Did you do something to offend one? Did one ever mention anything about the terms of your curse? Do you even remember being cursed?"

Fritz shakes his head slowly as I ask him each question, and Waltz looks alarmed. _Waltz knows that if Fritz is unaware of the curse, he is being used as a puppet by someone._

"I have no memory of a curse…but," my knight unhappily admits, "it does explain some things, although not as well as I would like."

"What kind of things?" I ask, and Fritz grimaces.

"Sometimes, it's as if I wake, but have no memory of where I've been or what I've been doing," he slowly admits, and from behind him, I can see that Waltz appears even more alarmed. I can almost see him calculating the risks of grabbing me and getting me away from Fritz this very second. "It's that, or I've just been getting even more forgetful lately."

"Then whomever cursed you did so to have control over your actions," I tell him. "If whatever they are making you do in the time spans your curse takes hold—if it was something you would normally do—it would not be important to make you forget it. Fritz, I'm afraid that you are a danger to anyone in your path until you break your curse."

Fritz freezes, as if his blood has suddenly turned cold. _He has sworn on his life that he would protect me…but I have just told him that he is incapable of it._ And my heart breaks for him. "Are you now Emelaigne's personal knight?" I ask, and Fritz shakes his head, still worried over what I have just told him, and I do not blame him for it.

"No…no I am not," he finally says, and then he shakes his head looking at the ground, as if coming to realize the terrible truth. "I cannot protect you. I might even be a _danger_ to you!" He would never hurt me, not of his own free will. That he may not be capable of holding to that due to a curse is the ultimate blow he can suffer.

He looks so lost now, so forlorn. "Fritz," I tell him, in a tone kinder than he has heard than before, and it catches his attention as his eyes immediately come up to meet mine. "Resist your curse in any way you can think. Find a way to break it before everything you are is lost."

"Princess?" he asks me, somehow knowing that this is the most important command I have ever given him.

"I know you will fight it, Fritz," I tell him. "It's what I trust the most about you; that you'll be there for me when I am in my direst need."

Fritz manages to smile at me—this is probably the highest praise I have ever offered him—but he still looks uneasy. After all, a curse is a foe he cannot face with a sword, and that's the only way he knows to fight his enemies. And we both have our own curses to face.

My knight takes a deep breath and turns to Jurien. "In my absence, how will you guard my royal charge in my stead?" he asks, and I wonder if this is some request for an oath between knights.

"Not a drop of blood will spill from her veins; not while I still have any left running in mine. I will be bound to your duty until you are capable of retaking it, or bound in your stead if your strength or life has been spent. This I swear upon my own life," Jurien answers, formally.

And I understand. She is taking Fritz's oath to protect me, at least in the interim, and he is revealing that—in his mind—she never stopped being a member of the Order of Caldira. And indeed, as Fritz bows and bids me goodbye, Jurien is standing a little bit straighter, her head held a little higher. Actually, though her expression is still formal, she looks happier than I have ever seen her.

"Goodbye, Princess," Fritz tells me. "And the best of fortunes with your curse. At least I found you. My father will probably be relieved that you are safe."

I do not forbid him to tell his father of me. It could have its uses for Sir Alcaster to know I am alive, and Myth would have told him of my existence by now. I am sure that Varg will tell Myth at his first opportunity. "And the best of fortunes with your curse, Fritz."

My knight bows to me again…the content of our discussion has apparently made him forget my original wish for secrecy, he is normally forgetful…and then exits the alley. I am left with Waltz and Jurien, who stare at me quizzically. "We will speak of this at the Marchen," I tell them, and then I pick up my burden and start walking towards the tavern. And they really have no choice but to follow me in silence. Unlike other outings I have been on, this is my show.

It does not take us long to return to the Marchen. We do not meet Parfait on our way towards the storeroom with our packages, but Waltz jerks his head at Delora who, sensing something amiss, follows us into the back of the inn.

"I was right," I say, shaking my head as if angry that I was correct, but I put my package down carefully before I break anything. "Sometimes, I don't know if that's good or bad."

"What happened?" Delora asks, but she asks Waltz.

"Nothing much," I tell her before Waltz can get his mouth open. "Just that I was accosted by ruffians that appear to have been on the payroll of a witch, and I ran into my knight but someone is using a Curse to control him like a puppet."

Delora's eyes widen, but she still glances at Waltz and Jurien for confirmation, and they both nod at my words. "I take it Parfait has told you my theory on the subject when I found out that Fritz was cursed?"

Delora and Waltz nod, but Jurien frowns, so I address her. "When Rod told me that Fritz was looking for me, I assumed that he had been cursed. I knew that you and Garlan were discharged for telling Father that Sir Alcaster was plotting against him. I know that Fritz would not join his father willingly in plotting against the king, but is at an elevated risk for discovering his father's plans. A curse that would control Fritz's actions would be an ideal way to deal with him, but would require the work of a wicked witch as Sir Alcaster's ally." I take a deep breath. "And, we now know not only that witches are searching for me, but that Fritz indeed has such a curse.

"And now I have to wonder if Sir Alcaster has been plotting something for at least the three years Fritz has been assigned to me," I say looking at Delora as I lean against a worktable that now holds the packages we deposited until Parfait can sort them. "Fritz was _not_ assigned to Emelaigne now that she is the crown princess. This means that his father—who assigned him—wanted him to develop loyalty to me, but not necessarily the next monarch if Emelaigne was not also given Fritz's services. Can you give me any theories of your own as to what this might mean?" I ask Delora.

The raven-haired witch is quiet for a long moment, and I know what she suspects, but I tell her anyway. "If Sir Alcaster were planning a full-fledged coup against the king, and if he intended to wait until I was of age and set me up in my father's place either as an actual ruler or a puppet, it would make sense for him to garner his son's support or silence if Fritz was more loyal to me than the rule of law. When I was cursed, any timetable or action that involved me suddenly became irrelevant unless his witch is involved to the point of helping him organize the coup. It then became 'necessary' for Sir Alcaster to have his own son cursed if Fritz's personal loyalty to me could not be used to control him."

Jurien whispers something I think may be a curse of her own beneath her breath. "A full-fledged coup? Have his own son cursed! Even Garlan and I never thought…." She trails off, and takes a deep breath of her own. "If only the king had believed us! But with Sir Alcaster and Sir Mythros whispering in his ear…."

I shrug my shoulders. "Then it's possible Myth is in on it too," I say, deliberately shortening the name, and both Waltz and Delora startle.

" _Who_?" Waltz asks me.

I blink at him, as if startled by his reaction. "Sir Mythros, my father's political advisor. He's a little too oily for my taste, keeps admiring how I look like my mother. I don't really trust him." I frown. "He might be a little cracked too…he keeps talking to Mother's portrait when he thinks that no one is looking. And people thought _I_ was odd for talking to dolls."

Waltz and Delora exchange worried looks.

"…Something in your expressions tells me that I am right not to trust him," I say.

"That…would be correct Princess," Delora tells me.

"Why?" I ask.

Delora shakes her head, but Waltz still tells me, "There once was an evil witch named Myth, and his whereabouts are unknown, but the man you are describing sounds very similar to him. This requires investigation."

Delora narrows her eyes at Waltz, but when I reply, "Then I shall stay away from him until we know for sure," her gaze softens. And then Waltz smiles. I can almost see him thinking that it would be better for me to know what dangers I am in, so I can avoid them because he knows I'm likely to investigate myself if my warnings are vague.

Come to think of it, that's exactly what I have done in the past…future…whatever. Even though I have grown up, Waltz still knows me very well.

"Princess," Jurien thinks to ask me, "why did you not forbid Sir Fritzgerald from telling his father about you when you believe that the man is planning a coup? And why suggest erasing the ruffian's memories, but not his?"

I take the second question first. "Fritz will not stop looking for me, unless I give him a good reason not to and he remembers my instructions," I tell her. "He is simply too loyal to do otherwise. If he was made to forget seeing me, he would continue to search and would probably walk into the Marchen's common room sooner or later, possibly when he is in even deeper throes of whatever curse he has. That could be dangerous. In the case of the vagabonds, there was no risk in erasing their memories and possible benefit.

"As to the other, I told Rod that I would keep my family alive. If Sir Alcaster manages to pull off a coup, he will have two choices. First, he can kill my father and family to install himself as king, or second, he can install me as queen which will not _necessarily_ mean that killing my family would be required. His witch will remember me, and will bring up the possibility of installing me as queen if only because they might think that they could have influence over me, or that installing the legitimate heir would decrease public unrest. If Alcaster knows that I am alive to be installed and near enough to make finding me plausible, that increases my family's odds of survival."

"You care enough about your family to put yourself at risk of becoming Alcaster's puppet?" Delora asks me.

"You know as well as I do that my father and I are…not close," I admit as my dolls, and thus Delora, have been my only confidents in the palace. "But there are times when I wished that could change. This would become impossible were he dead. I'll never know what we could have had or become if…." I trail off, but then I notice Delora trying to blink away something that appears suspiciously close to tears.

"Excuse me," she says, and abruptly leaves the room.

 _Her daughter. She's thinking of Loreah, her daughter that my mother murdered._

And remember the circumstances of that murder. Delora had spoken against my mother's plans, and in return Mother had killed Delora's ten-year-old daughter…and the pain of that loss had not corrupted Delora. This is probably why Parfait considers her incorruptible, but I have to wonder what happened to Delora's husband. Is he dead as well, and if so, was it for similar reason? Or worse…was he corrupted like many of the other witches during the Great War, if he even was a witch?

And I find that I have no words, or even thoughts, that can suffice in response to that.

I turn to the two that remain. Waltz is staring after Delora, looking a little sad himself. But…he also seems relieved in some way. _Of course, he's relieved that I_ want _to care about my family…that I am not ice the whole way through._

"One last thing, Princess," Jurien starts. "Sir Fritzgerald implied that he is unaware that you can use a sword. He was not your teacher then?"

"Logic, Jurien," I tell her. "Either he was not my teacher and a less…convenient…knight taught me and I am even sneakier than you currently imagine, or else he does not trust you to know that I know the sword. Given that, if I am not wrong, he basically entrusted his duties toward me to you—it is unlikely that he does not trust you."

Jurien's mouth draws tight for a moment. "The way he asked me…well, let's just say it's an oath most commonly used by a knight that has just received potentially fatal wounds, and he asks another knight to take his duty to protect the lineage of the Crown. No one in the Order would ever refuse such a request from a dying brother, even if they thought themselves unworthy of the duty. He is not abandoning his own oath to you…simply ensuring that you are being taken care of should his own end be imminent."

I draw a ragged breath, my hands clamping tightly to the table behind me.

 _Fritz. I never wished you this pain._

And I know that there is nothing I can do to stop it.

And Jurien is probably going to be keeping a very close eye on me from now on.


	11. The Palace is Still in the Princess

**Chapter 11. One Cannot Take the Palace Out of the Princess**

While the day may be over, sleep has not yet come. I put on my dress again, trying to remember if Waltz is in the common room tonight, and walk downstairs. I hear a clank, and go into the common room to investigate. When I arrive, I indeed find Waltz, just having tripped over my broom. Since Sir Broom is not magical like Mr. Broom, it doesn't attempt to cower behind me but instead just lies there on the floor. I must have forgotten to put it in its proper place.

"Waltz?" I ask. "What are you still doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," he explains, "so I decided to continue working on some of my puppets, but then I tripped over this broom on my way to get a drink. But why are you here?"

"I heard a sound," I say.

"As curious as always," Waltz sighs. "That's going to get you into trouble, you know."

"And here I thought that curiosity was a symptom of intelligence," I reply. "If one has no desire to learn things, one will not be curious."

Waltz smiles at me. "But prudence is exercising caution with one's intelligence. "

I shrug. "I simply do not consider the common room of the Marchen dangerous territory."

"Well…you have a point in that," Waltz admits.

"And as to venturing into other territory to satisfy my curiosity…I doubt Jurien would forgive me if I went anywhere actually dangerous without her, now," I say, sitting down at the table where Waltz has his materials laid out after I return the broom to its proper place. "Not after what happened today."

Waltz frowns, returning to the table with a mug he had been after before tripping over the broom. "You mean, after your knight gave her charge over you?"

I nod. "Jurien did not leave the Order of Caldira…it left her. If I remember correctly, her father was a distinguished member of the Order. I could see her wanting to do well there to please him. But, she and Garlan had a choice between doing what was right, just, and honorable…and doing what was easy. They chose rightly, and were punished for it.

"For Fritz to have done what he did, it shows that at least one other knight still acknowledges her true worth. To be given the care of the next monarch, even if it was an act of desperation, means that she can still serve Angielle in a way that would have made her father proud of her," I finish.

"Yes…" Waltz says slowly. "I…I don't think I've ever seen her happier or prouder than when we were in that alley. It is kind of you to be considerate of her."

I sigh. "It's one of the things that is kind of humbling about being the crown princess. There are people that would, and sometimes do, die for you. They may spend their entire lives training to be good at defending you. They don't even have to like you as a person, or even know you at all, to defend you with their lives. It's their duty as knights; they help provide stability to the nation by protecting the lineage of the crown."

"Is that how you see Fritz?" Waltz asks, seeming to be excessively careful. "Is he merely professional?" Of course he wonders this. While Waltz was with me for two years, Fritz was there for three…and I am able to remember Fritz quite clearly. I know that if I make it known that my preference is for someone other than him, Waltz will not try to interfere—but we both know that Fritz has a dangerous curse.

"No," I say, unable to keep some of the pain out of my voice…pain Waltz seems to pick up on. "He was always there—ever reliable—even when I was at my iciest, even when formality did not call for him to be. For three years, he was arguably the only presence I did not find painful. He was possibly the closest thing I had to a friend during that time."

Waltz relaxes as soon as I utter the word 'friend.' "I'm sorry that he was cursed, Lucette. I know…it's a terrible thing to bear. The feeling of helplessness alone…."

I shiver. Waltz has hit the nail on the head on what makes curses so terrible. Our curses both took something we were away from us, the station or abilities upon which our lives were founded, and made them worthless in our new lives. I was no longer a princess, Waltz had been a child prodigy and then had lost nearly all of his magical power, Klaude went from a Casanova to needing to dress as a woman to simply be able to walk in the street, Chevalier forgot that he was even a doctor, Rod found himself still unable to win the girl despite the price he had gambled for her, and Fritz found himself no longer capable of his duty to protect me. In some way, we were all helpless in the face of our curses. "Something sits uneasy with me about that," I say, "aside from the obvious I have already mentioned. How does one break a curse if one doesn't know its conditions?"

Waltz is silent for a moment. "There…is one way, Lucette. The Tenebrarum Bearer can break whatever curse she wishes, and the next one seems to have a keen sense of justice. I believe that she would help your friend."

He still does not tell me that I am the one that would be able to help Fritz, just that it is possible. He doesn't want me to despair…to know that something can still be done.

"Well," I say, "she's sure to be swamped with requests if she steps foot in here."

"Not…necessarily," Waltz answers, somewhat awkwardly. "You see…the Bearers are always the members of the same bloodline. Since the last Bearer was corrupted, many of the cursed think that the next Bearer may become corrupt as well…or else will demand a price they cannot pay to remove their curses. Many simply hated the last Bearer so much, their emotions blind their reason." He sounds very sad at the last of that, and he does not meet my eyes. "Sometimes, it would be hard to ask the child of your enemy for a favor, if when you look at her, all you can see is your enemy's face."

So…the customers of the Marchen still see Mother when they look at me. I can't help be feel a little sickened by that. "You almost sound bitter about that, Waltz," I say.

"People can't choose who they are born to," he says, frowning. "And some parents try to mold their children into something that they are not to replicate their own cruelties!"

And I know he means me. "You seem to have a keen sense of justice yourself…or to have personal experience with this."

Waltz gives me a wry smile, and I know he is trying to deflect this observation. "Not in the way you might mean, Lucette. I had a loving family when I was a child. I was happy…until my master came for me. My parents did not want to give me to her as an apprentice, afraid that she would corrupt me. But, they could not stand against her power. She took me anyway, and I later learned that she killed them and any other relative I had that attempted to stand in her way. Then, she tried to corrupt me."

And I cannot help but feel a chill. If my mother had succeeded in corrupting Waltz…would she had ever fallen? What would she have made of me, if he had not effectively stopped her? "In that case," I say so quietly it is nearly a whisper, "I am very glad that she failed. I guess some hearts are harder to corrupt than others. And I'm sorry that you lost your family." He smiles at me gratefully, but I continue. "Thank you for earlier."

"For what?" he asks.

"Back in the storeroom, with Delora," I explain. "When we were talking of Sir Mythros? Delora wanted me to be wary, but not tell me why, but you wanted to tell me why. I think…she sees me as a child, and one young enough that she would tell me not to touch a stove, but not that it was hot. You do not treat me as a child."

He grins at me. "I don't think of you as a child anymore. And…I'm pretty sure that if you weren't given enough information, you would investigate vague threats yourself and possibly get yourself into something dangerous."

"You know," I say, "that would not surprise me if I did that either."

He looks like he wants to say something else, but closes his mouth to return to his puppets. _He wants to tell me that he does know me, that we were friends, but…. That comes too close to the truth he doesn't want to tell me, unless he thinks he can explain how my memories got erased without me asking awkward questions. I am already very close to figuring out that my mother and his master are the same woman. …Perhaps he wants me to figure it out on my own, so I don't doubt what he tells me this time. Maybe that's why he is more free with his information._

We usually have a conversation about his curse, too, near this point. But, as I've already seen to that, it's not really an issue.

Waltz is frowning at the tabletop, holding one of his puppets perhaps tighter than he should when he asks, "Lucette? If I told you that we use to be friends but my master erased your memories, would you believe me?" He has decided to take a risk, but not identify my mother by name as at fault for my memory loss.

I blink. "It would make a certain amount of sense," I answer slowly. "You seem to know me better than anyone else here; better than Delora who spent half of a year on my shelf, at least."

He smiles at me. "You actually taught me to sew, and make puppets. You weren't allowed outside the palace, but for two years I would sneak into your room to play with you."

I look up at him. "Did you make lilies appear for me? Like you did that one day on the street?"

His eyes open wide, shocked, and the puppet drops to the table. "Yes…yes I did."

"You promised that you would teach me how to do that when I begged you to," I look at him sharply. "When did you promise you would teach me?"

"On your birthday!" He says, the sorrow I usually see in his eyes instantly dismissed. "Lucette, you remembered!" He pulls me into a hug, and I do not try to stop him. " _How?_ "

"Well," I try to explain, "sometimes I have dreams…but they don't really fit any context that I can understand. That was in one of those dreams." I frown at him. "But why are you so surprised? Did Delora not tell you about it, or did she not know that it was you in my dream?"

"What?" he asks, surprised, now holding me by my shoulders.

Frankly, I'm surprised that she didn't tell him. "Back when she was my doll, actually the day before my curse, I told her about that dream when I was looking at the lilies you had given me after I saw you."

His hands squeeze on my shoulders for a moment, and I can only assume that he intends to have words with Delora later. Well, if she didn't tell him, she probably deserves it. On the other hand, maybe she simply did not want to raise his hopes if I was unable to connect that dream with him.

"Lucette," he tells me, "nothing could make me happier than that you remember me…even if it's just a little bit. There was a time when you were the only bright light in my world, and I could help the sad little princess smile."

"So _that's_ why you call me your 'star,'" I say, giving him a small smile now.

His smile is broad and genuine. "Yes, that's why I call you my 'star.'"

"So," I ask him, "are you still planning to teach me the lilies trick on my birthday? I notice now that you didn't specify which birthday."

"It would be my pleasure," he tells me. "I made you other promises that I'll keep if you permit me. There were sweets and amusements I remember you wanting to try, if you ever got to go into town."

"I think I would like that," I say, both glad for the excuse to spend time with him and to get out of the inn. "But aren't there evil witches out there, looking for me?"

"You forget ever so quickly," he tells me, "that I am also a witch."

"And we'll probably have to take Jurien too," I say, and he sighs. "She'll probably hit you with something if she finds you've taken me out of the Marchen without her. I have the feeling she's likely to take her…guardianship…of me very seriously."

"You're probably right," he says.

I go upstairs after telling Waltz goodnight, but do not immediately go to bed. Instead, I sit down in one of the chairs in the small common area near the bedrooms, thinking. How much, if anything, is going to change if Jurien tags along with us? Is Rod starting to see signs of the oncoming coup…signs convincing enough that my father might actually pay attention to them?

One thing I've never really understood about my father is how he could have lived under my mother's thumb and cruelty for as long as he did, yet not be suspicious enough to investigate when Garlan and Jurien told him that Sir Alcaster was plotting against him. Maybe…maybe with my mother 'dead,' he thought that the greatest battle of his life had already been fought. It would make some amount of sense for him to be more vulnerable after a victory…a victory can put someone off their guard.

I remember when Myth set two traps. Once, when Emelaigne had had a ball to pick a suitor, Myth had convinced Alcaster that the thing to do was to march in with some of his knights and threaten Emelaigne's life with the crown itself as her ransom. Myth then betrayed Alcaster to my father, giving the king victory over one adversary…and not revealing that Myth was actually his most dangerous enemy. Fortunately, Delora had been able to put a stop to Myth's plans before we even found out that Myth was intending to use me to free my mother.

It occurs to me that I have been concentrating on my life here to the extent that I have been ignoring what will become my most important battle. Assuming that my father does not realize he is being overthrown until it is too late, that even if I can convince Parfait and Delora of the truth of the situation before the coup happens but we find no proof that would convince my father to take actions to allow us to kill Myth or dispose of Alcaster before the coup happens, assuming Rod is unable to get his…our…family to safety, what then?

I know that sometimes, Fritz is able to come back long enough to give Rod and Emelaigne a chance to make it into the escape tunnels after they are captured, but more often the residents of the Marchen have to go into the palace to perform a rescue.

Perhaps…perhaps there is another way. It's something that I haven't tried before. It's risky…very risky…but perhaps worth it. I sigh, realizing that I will have to do something spectacular for Jurien to make it up to her. And, I'll have to convince Delora to curse me again.

Deep in my thoughts, I don't sense Karma until he is behind me. He is in a dress again, and I assume he has just returned from his patrol. "Yes," I tell him wearily, "I know that, were you an enemy, you could have killed me by now. I was just thinking."

"You do appear to be lost in thought, darling," he tells me. "And the hour is late. What, pray, has you up at this hour?"

"I was just trying to decide the best way to conduct a counter-coup," I answer, truthfully, but my answer appears to surprise him.

"Well," he says eventually, "I suppose you can take the princess out of the palace, but not the palace out of the princess."

"Say you had the choice," I ask him. "Would you remove the royal family and then attack your enemies, even if there was a better than reasonable chance you couldn't get them all out alive and at least one member of the royal family would die? Or, would you take an all-or-nothing bet and try to kill your enemies first, knowing that if you missed an enemy of significance they would immediately kill most or perhaps all of the royal family, but if you got your enemies the first time you tried and the entire royal family could be saved?"

"…So, this is what you think about when not concentrating on other things?" Karma asks me. He is considerably less flowery than before I started fighting. Perhaps he believes that his services as an instructor are enough to make me want to dispel his curse when I have the chance to, or perhaps he genuinely likes me at this point. There is also the fact that I am speaking to him as if he is an equal. He might find this flattering, as I am not supposed to know that he really is my equal among the ranks of nobility.

"What if it was your family, what would you do?" I ask him. "Assume the traitors are a military leader, and someone with magical capabilities. Assume that their goals were only the same in dethroning the current monarch, but would otherwise turn on each other for a bucket of dog drool."

Karma takes the chair across from me. He can tell that I am being serious. "A lot depends on what the eventual goals of the traitors are," he starts. "Sometimes, they seek to make puppets out of the current monarch or their immediate successor if they wish to avoid civil unrest. Sometimes, they would rather kill the entire family and found their own dynasty. The last possibility is that they seek install themselves in the existing dynasty by force.

"I would usually recommend getting the royal family out of harm's way first, and then fighting with whatever forces the usurpers do not control to gain control of the throne again. However, a wise adversary will ensure they have the upper hand militarily. This way is bloody, but traditional. Often, the nation involved breaks into civil war if the two sides are too well matched.

"Your scenario has a divided group conducting the coup. It may be more simple to let them fight themselves, and then to destroy the wounded victor," he finishes.

"In theory," I ask him, "what if there was an…agent…capable of appeasing both sides before the general public was aware that there was a coup in the first place? Before any action concerning the royal family could be taken? Could that put the traitors at ease enough they could be destroyed in a more…stealthy manner?"

"You sound as if you are considering something dangerous, Princess," Karma tells me. "None of us would have you risk yourself for any price. If something _does_ happen to your father, you are the rightful monarch, and the last of his lineage. You must be protected at all costs."

"I do not intend to give anyone a reason to kill me," I say dryly, "nor do I intend to die." _In fact, Myth has excellent motivation to keep me alive…until my birthday anyway._

Karma sits back in his chair. "Why ask _me_ these questions, Princess?"

He probably wants to know if someone has told me who he actually is. "You strike me as having had education in these matters," I say. "And I believe that you have just proven my assumption correct."

Karma nods, accepting that. He would believe that he appears educated…or just about anything complimentary. He does know that I know he is of noble blood. "You are worried about your father. I do understand from Jurien and Garlan that Sir Alcaster is plotting against him."

We talk a little more, about what we do and do not know. By the time I bid Karma goodnight, it is much later than I normally stay up, and I have to rise early the next morning. As I turn to go to bed, I see Waltz in the stairwell leaning against the wall. As I ready myself for bed, I have to wonder how long he was listening, and why he didn't announce his presence.

Perhaps he is troubled that I might be planning an all-or-nothing gamble. If so, I cannot blame him for it.

I am troubled as well.


	12. Apologies

**Chapter 12. Apologies**

"Princess, could I talk with you a moment?" Parfait asks me, not long after the conversations I had with Waltz and Karma.

I am simply waiting around until Jurien gets back from whatever errand she is on, so Waltz and I can go into town. Even if I am with Waltz, Jurien appears unwilling to allow me to go more than fifty yards from the Marchen without her. Her argument is that if Waltz is performing, he will not be able to keep his eyes on me and I could be kidnapped. Waltz did protest initially, but then agreed that it would be safer if she was around as well.

"Very well," I answer, and then follow the fairy into the private dining room.

"This may seem odd…but are you planning to take any particular action when Alcaster attempts whatever he is planning?" the fairy asks me.

I hate that in spite of the fact that we both have a good idea what is coming, there is very little we can do about it. My father did not believe Jurien and Garlan when they had no proof of Alcaster's plots, and I have no idea how to obtain that proof. It's not like I can convince my father of anything, in my current condition. I have Rod keeping his eyes open for such evidence, but he's not exactly a trained investigator and simply does not have access to where physical evidence might be if it even exists.

Unfortunately, my father blindly trusts the two men that are most dangerous to him. Short of assassinating Myth and Alcaster, Parfait is probably not sure what else she can do…and fairies are not known for assassinating people. I might have tried to convince her to have Alcaster cursed in a way that would remove him at least, but I prefer to face a divided enemy as opposed to Myth by himself.

"Such as…?" I ask her.

"Anything that might put your own life in jeopardy," she tells me. "My concern is for your own safety."

I assume that Karma, Waltz, or both have informed her of the conversation I had with Karma. I am not surprised or disappointed that they have done so. I probably would have done the same thing, under the circumstances. "Any action I might take would depend on what, exactly, happens." I know what she wishes of me, but I cannot give her a promise that I will stay out of trouble. "Assuming that I am still cursed when the coup occurs, I have no plans to leave the Marchen without consulting with you, Delora, or both…depending on who is present."

Some of the tension leaves her, but she does not appear entirely relieved. "You will give me no assurance that you will make every endeavor to preserve your own life and freedom? You will merely let me know if you decide to do something…risky?"

"It's hard to assess risk when I do not know what the dangers, or potential dangers, are," I tell her. "I know that there is something important that you and Delora are not telling me."

"We have our reasons," Parfait says quietly, "and they are good ones."

"Oh, I think _you_ think you have good reasons," I tell her, "but that does not mean that I might agree were the situation reversed. I hate being patronized, it is much too close to being used as a puppet or a tool. If I am in danger, I have a right to know what kind of danger, and from whom." My lips tighten as I pause for a moment before continuing. "I am going to find out anyway eventually, and I think you would rather that I heard it from you. If you ever want me as an ally or friend, you are going to have to start building trust with me instead of treating me as a child."

Parfait sighs. "I would rather Delora be here as well, when we…fully explain the situation."

It occurs to me to wonder if Delora left with Rod this morning after he came to visit Parfait. She might be snooping in the palace, trying to determine if there is indeed a witch there, and to identify him if she can. This is the first time Rod has come since I mentioned Myth might be currently installed as my father's advisor.

"We will tell you, but…I ask that you not require it of me today. There is something I have been keeping from you, but I had my reasons. Perhaps it is time soon," she admits, and I almost shiver. She is not the first to have given me those words.

"My father said _exactly_ the same thing to me the day I was cursed," I tell her, my anger rising, pain audible in my words. "It was the last time I ever spoke with him, and you took that conversation he meant to have from us. Someone else may take it from you if you delay too long, as he did, and I do not know that I will ever be able to speak with him again." For all I know, this could be my final time through, and I will have to live with the consequences for the rest of my life.

I turn around to exit the room and have moved several steps away when I hear her voice again. "Lucette," she says softly, "I am sorry that we took that from you." I stop walking and turn my head to face the fairy again, looking over my shoulder. "When you first told us that you had been intending to talk to your father…we assumed that that conversation would have ended only in your anger and his pain, and were not regretful that it had never taken place."

"And now?" I ask her, standing still as my anger with her begins to abate.

"Now…I am not sure," the fairy admits. "It might have ended that way still…but even when you arrived you were not as…unreasonable as we were expecting you to be. We were shocked when you got your first good work almost immediately. You might have been reasonable with your father; you might have been able to forgive each other and reconcile. But we took that chance from you. With the probable oncoming coup, I cannot guarantee that you will have another chance at it. For that you have my most profound apologies."

I turn around to fully face her again, and notice that Parfait's cheeks are now wet. "I…think I can accept that apology, and forgive you for it," I say, my anger with her gone. I am shocked when Parfait runs a few steps forward to hug me, and actually cries on my shoulder. She has never done this before that I can remember. She has always been the mysterious, but fragile, tower of strength. She has always 'known best,' and for her to admit that this may not be so allows me a glimpse into the good woman that she truly is. She acknowledges when she has chosen in error, and it grieves her when the results of her actions are negative—even if they were unintended.

I put my own arms around her, hugging her as she hugs me. It is still a little awkward, being this close to anyone other than the man I love, but…I cannot help by feel empowered by comforting her. I suppose even a tower of strength needs someone to lean on, every now and then. "Hush now," I tell her gently. "People will assume that I have done something to hurt you if you leave my presence with puffy eyes."

I'm not sure if the sound that emanates from Parfait is a laugh or a hiccup. "You sound…like someone I once knew."

"Then I hope it is someone that you liked," I tell her, wondering if I sound like my mother before she was corrupted.

"It was someone I loved like a sister," she says sadly, confirming my suspicions, and it chills me. How similar am I, right now, to what my mother once was? Is there still a possibility, however slim, that I might still become what she turned into? Then she shakes her head, looking up at me. "It is with every fiber of my being that I hope the two of you do not share the same fate. I…I just hope that I haven't ruined your chances of reconciling with your father."

"It's not like he is dead yet," I tell her. "That is why I cannot promise you that I will try to stay out of trouble. If I see a chance to save him, I will take it even if there is risk to myself."

"I could wish you wouldn't take risks," she sighs, "but then…if you did nothing it might be proof that you could not successfully navigate your other…tasks."

"Right, _those_ mysterious tasks," I say. _Like being the Tenebrarum Bearer, ending or at least controlling my witches' curses, bringing balance back between the crystals, all while potentially ruling my own kingdom if Father dies in spite of my efforts…and that's assuming I can get this cycling stopped._

When Parfait has calmed down and dried her tears, a light shines from my necklace, and I look down to find another piece on my necklace. Parfait smiles at me. "Congratulations," she tells me. "You are almost there."

I smile back at her, but all I can think is that I need to have a conversation with Delora…and soon. I hope her task doesn't take long. I really want to push Garlan at Jurien soon, which will give me my final good work. Since it will be the third one and the curse should break at night, when most of the people that remember me should be asleep, with luck no one should be aware that I managed to break my course, this is assuming that I can convince Delora to help me.

I leave Parfait in the dining room, and return to the common room where I find Jurien waiting near the door. "You ready then?" she asks, and then frowns. "Out of curiosity, why is your shoulder wet?"

"It is of no matter," I say, preferring to keep what happened between myself and Parfait. These people look to her for strength and leadership, and I have no intention of undermining her. If Parfait wishes to speak of it herself, she may, but somehow I don't think she would tell anyone but Delora…and maybe Waltz.

Waltz himself waits by the door with a large bag slung over his shoulder. "Well," he says, "let's be on our way."

On the way there, the three of us chat amicably until Waltz gets to his destination and begins to set his supplies up. Jurien puts me on top of a crate against a wall, and sits on the one next to me. She prefers a setup like this, as she doesn't have to watch my back if there is a wall there, and she is high enough to watch for potential problems. She even manages to find a wall that is in a shadow, which not only protects us from the sun, but we are a little less noticeable to the general public. I do not mind this arrangement, because I can see over the heads of the crowd to watch Waltz perform.

A crowd gathers around him, and he soon starts his performance, and makes flower petals rain down. I cannot help but think how happy he looks as he entertains, how charming he is, and I sigh watching him.

"You've got it bad, don't you Lucette?" Jurien asks me. She never calls me by my title when we are in the street for safety reasons so no one identifies me as the princess being searched for, but never by my name when are in the Marchen or in relative private. I know it is logical but somehow…it seems a little backwards.

I don't bother to deny it. "Is it that obvious?" I ask instead.

"To someone who knows what to look for, yes," she tells me. "I almost feel bad being here, as if I am an undesired chaperone."

"Considering he has mentioned nothing to me that would make a chaperone necessary, I'm not really sure how to respond to that," I answer her.

"Men," Jurien says, shaking her head. "Sometimes they are _very_ dense, and won't even notice what is under their very noses."

"I've tried hinting," I tell her, "but maybe I am being too subtle. On the other hand, I don't want to give him everything on a silver platter either."

Jurien nods, understanding. "If a man has courage, he'll speak up eventually. If he does not have courage, he is not worth your time or your tears. From what I understand of Waltz's history, he will risk everything for what he needs to do. He does not lack courage."

"Out of curiosity," I ask her, "what kind of traits do you look for in a man? Other than the fact that we both agree that he must have courage."

"Trust," she tells me immediately. "I would never pledge my safety to someone I don't know. I've only ever really trusted my fellow knights…and Garlan most of all. Though for your purposes…what Waltz is would possibly work even better in being able to ensure your safety." She does not say out loud that Waltz is a witch, as we are in public. That is probably for the best.

I nod. She has not exactly said that she is interested in Garlan, but that she would be interested in men like him. It's probably the most I should dig for on that topic. "I just have to wonder, assuming that Waltz is interested, what my father will say about this when I can tell him. He has…certain opinions…about people like Waltz."

"Considering what Waltz did for him," Jurien responds, "I doubt that he'll be able to refuse you. The debt between them is simply too large to ignore."

There is a moment of silence as we both consider the king. "I'm sorry that my father didn't believe you," I tell Jurien.

"So am I," she replies, her eyes scanning the crowd for threats even as she converses with me.

"I think I will do a better job investigating threats when it is my turn," I tell her. "I'd rather learn from someone else's mistakes than make them myself."

"And that is one of the reasons I consider you so practical, Lucette," Jurien tells me. "I simply have to keep you alive for you to be able to have your own turn. And after, of course, for as long as you consider me fit to serve you."

I nod, grateful for the loyalty of a trustworthy knight, and a thought occurs to me. "What do knights do when they have aged too much to serve as a warrior? I know that some train the younger knights, but that cannot account for all of them."

"The Crown provides food and board, as well as a stipend, for everyone that lives in the barracks. Those without rank can save enough to last for their aged years, and are cared for by their families as are the aged everywhere. Those with rank earn enough to purchase property, and many families serve in consecutive generations building reputation and property that way," she admits.

"If I remember correctly, your own father served with distinction," I say, and Jurien actually smiles.

"I…am proud that he is remembered by you," she says.

 _And I am sure that he would be proud of you being in your current role._ I want so badly to say it, but I already got my second good work comforting Parfait today after she offered her apology. I cannot afford to be very good until I can talk with Delora again, and that in itself pains me.

Either fortunately or unfortunately, before I could have gotten my mouth open to say those words anyway, Waltz stands before me pulling lilies out of thin air for me. Everyone is watching, he must still be performing for the crowd. So I smile, clearly delighted at the presentation.

When I look over, Jurien looks about ready to slap Waltz for drawing so much attention to me.


	13. The Setup

**Chapter 13 The Setup**

It is nearly a week later that I finally see Delora again, walking in the halls of the Marchen. She looks worried, though probably very few people know her well enough to tell. She is probably certain that there is a witch hiding in the palace, even if she is not able to positively identify him. "Is Parfait here, or did you two switch off again?" I ask.

Delora sighs. "She left nearly as soon as I arrived. I hate it when she merely gives her mysterious fairy smile and disappears."

Now I sigh. "She was going to tell me when the both you were together, and then she just leaves again. This…is getting annoying."

The witch looks at me with something approaching pity. "We will tell you…just try to be patient a little bit longer."

"You must think I have insufficient patience, to make me practice it so often," I practically bite. "It reminds me of the fable of the man who asked the gods for patience, and got nothing but adversity for the rest of his life."

"Well…practice does improve performance," Delora admits.

"But will you tell me if I guess correctly?" I ask.

Delora's mouth twists, but she says, "Yes…I owe you that much."

"I think you owe me something else as well, and…this conversation would best be private," I tell her. Delora blinks in surprise, but follows me into my nearby room.

"Very well, what do you think I owe you, and why?" she asks me.

"Well," I start, "you did forcibly remove me from the palace. Kidnapping a princess is a serious crime in Angielle, even if you covered it up by making everyone forget about me." She opens her mouth, probably to say that she had no choice, but I continue. "I had just decided that my stepsister was _not_ envious of my position; that her attempts at trying to be friendly were genuine and I should be more open to such overtures. I had agreed to spend more time with her, but you took that from me." Delora grimaces at this, not trying to answer. "My father was finally about to tell me why he had failed me when I needed him. I cannot forgive if I do not know…I do not know if it was his fault alone, or if there was something else involved. I don't even know if I may have done something to exacerbate the situation, if part of it is my fault as well. If the coup occurs to the extent it may, I might never know."

Now, Delora cannot meet my eyes, and she does not try to make excuses or answer.

"Parfait apologized to me for this," I tell her, "but you never even acknowledged a debt." And there is silence for several moments.

"What…what do you wish of me, Princess?" Delora finally asks me.

"I am only one good work away from breaking my curse," I say, holding up my necklace so she can see it. "And I'm certain I know of something I could do to finally do so."

"Congratulations?" she says, knowing that if I break my curse now, things will probably only get more complicated. For one thing, I need to be kept safe…preferably in the Marchen…during the coup that is certain to happen, and if my father does not know where I am the entire country might be in an uproar before long. Alcaster might decide to move his timetable up, and things could get even messier.

"I'm not pleased about it at all," I tell her. "I'm going to need you to curse me again. If you do so, I will consider all debts paid."

Delora's mouth drops open, and her eyes become large. Whatever she thought that I might ask of her…it was not this. "Curse…you… _again_?!"

"That's right," I tell her.

"You tell me that I owe you for keeping you from your family, and want me to repay you by…keeping you from your family for longer?" she asks. "What madness is this?"

"A madness that commonly afflicts young women," I admit. "I am in love, I keep hinting to him about my feelings…but either he is as dense as a troll not to realize what I am saying, or he does not return them. Delora, I _must_ know which. I might be able to fix dense…or at least tolerate a certain level of it."

She only stares at me.

"If my curse were to break, it might become necessary for me to go back to the palace," I tell her, explaining my logic…or perhaps my lack thereof. Lovesick young women are not known for their logic. "I wouldn't have nearly as many opportunities to be around him were that to happen, and what we could have had may die of neglect. I intend to give him as many opportunities to confess to me as I can…at least, until I am sure of his disinterest. The price of that is for me to remain cursed."

"You don't do anything halfway, do you?" the witch asks me.

"I really don't see the point in doing anything at all, if you are not going to give it your best effort," I tell her. "And this is important." I pause for a moment, before continuing. "My curse will break at night, which will suite me well. I don't want anyone to suddenly remember me, only to forget me when anyone dangerous might notice. My new curse needs to be applied _immediately_ when the old one breaks. Are you capable of this?"

"In theory, it could work," she says, quietly. "Casting the spell takes only seconds, and does not need to be done at midnight. I only did that for dramatic effect. I would need to watch over you on the night in question, so I would be there exactly when I needed to be to replace the curse. You would have to tell me which night that would be, since I have no intention of watching you sleep every night. There would be some risk involved, as you would be transported to a random point in the city. You would be alone."

"Is there a way for you to track me?" I ask. I would probably appear in rags again, so it's not like I could bring a sword with me. I would be helpless.

"There…is another spell that could do that, and it should remain intact in spite of the curse," she admits. "Actually…it's a spell that Waltz taught me. Otherwise I would have used it on you the first time."

I nod. This should work. "Very well, it is possible. Will you do it?" I ask, knowing that she must fulfil her word.

"If you tell me which night you will need my services and there are no life-or-death situations I must deal with instead, yes," she answers.

And I smile at her, but I still can't help but feel a little bad for manipulating her. But…this is necessary. _You hypocrite, that is the very same reason she gave for manipulating you!_ And I decide that Delora and I are much more alike than we might realize, and that may or may not be a good thing.

...…

I am now getting proficient enough that Karma has started trying to distract me with conversation during our practices. Tonight, Garlan sits on the sidelines and watches, waiting for his turn with Karma. I stand facing Karma, my practice blade held in a defensive position as I turn to face Karma, who is circling me.

"What topic of conversation shall we breach today, hmmm?" Karma asks, dressed as a man today. Jurien is on a long patrol, and will not be returning until after practice. Karma has been taking every opportunity possible to dress as a man. As we grow closer to my birthday, this does not surprise me. He can almost taste the end of his curse.

He comes toward me, and my blade meets his with a crack as I push both Karma and his blade away from me. "Perhaps we will talk of curses."

"You know about mine, and I'm not sure you wish to know my theories on your curse," I say, stepping forward with my blade raised, and Karma retreats the same distance, his blade held in a defensive posture now.

"Try me," he says.

"Very well," I say rushing forward to attack him, but he parries my blows and I back off. "The evidence I see in you is that you are obviously a nobleman, but probably an outlander. By your accent, I would guess Brugantian."

"Very good," Karma admits. He changes the position of his sword to attack in a horizontal fashion, but before he can get there, I have my own blade in a position to block such a blow. He smiles and changes his stance. "What else?"

"Depending on how high of a rank you have in the nobility," I say, taking a swing at Karma which he blocks before we separate again, "there is always a possible political motive for your curse. Its effects make you dress as a woman, and this is a barrier for any romantic relationship for you. If you were an only child or heir, it could effectively end your familial line." _Or, keep you from your throne as you have no wish to return until after your curse is dealt with._

I take another swing at Karma and hit his right arm before he can block me. Having 'loss' the use of that arm, Karma changes his grip so he can hold his sword only in his left hand, putting the right behind his back as we continue. Having to use a two-handed weapon only with his non-dominate hand puts him at a disadvantage. But, he does not answer my theory, and is no longer smiling.

"Another possibility," I say as I now start to circle my 'wounded' opponent while I prepare to move in for the kill, "is that you were a heartbreaker. A handsome nobleman might have his choice between many women, and…overindulged. It is conceivable that some broken-hearted witch cursed you in revenge, or simply to keep you from breaking any more hearts."

Even in the moonlight, I can see that Karma has paled. I press my advantage, giving him blows that he is just barely blocking, one-handed. "That leaves my theories as to what you are doing here, since you do not seem to be actively trying to break your curse. If you do not have a way to break it, but have familial or political obligations to provide an heir, it would make sense for you to be seeking a wife among the cursed—someone that might not be effected by whatever other consequences your curse might have."

My blows finally disarm Karma, who is now backed against a tree, and I point my practice sword at his chest. "Among the female cursed, why is it that you only seek my company? If you indeed need heirs for your own lineage, I would not be a logical choice because the man I wed will marry into my family rather than the other way around." I decide to give him something that he can deny. "Is it because only I am of nobility, and in spite of your situation, you cannot tolerate socializing with anyone of common birth?"

Karma is silent for a long moment. "I yield, my lady," he says, his hands in the air, all flamboyance drained. Perhaps skewering him both literally and figuratively is what it takes for his air of self-appreciation to dissipate. "You are right about much, but wrong about the last of it."

I nod, noting that he had not specified how much of the 'last of it' that he considered erroneous, or how much he considered truth. "You asked my theories, not how much credit I give which ones. And I don't discount the fact that my information may be incomplete, which could significantly alter my theories."

"Yes, yes I did ask for this," Karma says, sounding thoroughly unhappy with himself.

"And you allowed yourself to be distracted. Being distracted made you 'dead,'" I tell him. "I would not have you dead. You need to concentrate!"

Karma gives a wry laugh as I lower my sword, and he pushes himself from against the tree. "And here I thought I should be giving _you_ that line." He picks up his practice sword, and hands it to Garlan. "My apologies. I do not feel able to continue tonight. Perhaps you would care to go a round with the princess." Karma jerks his head towards, where I just notice, Delora and Waltz stand. _I wonder how long they have been there._ "The witches can keep watch while you two train."

Garlan nods, takes the practice blade, and I turn to face my new opponent. In spite of my success against Karma, it does not necessarily equate success against Garlan. However, I manage to give as good as I get. I am much better than competent with the sword, now.

When we sit down to rest for a minute before he decides to teach me something new, I look over to see only Delora watching us and I wonder where Waltz went. He usually enjoys watching me practice. "You had some harsh words for Karma, Princess," Garlan tells me.

"I was merely listing logical possibilities," I tell him, trying to wipe sweat from my eyes with a handkerchief. "Only he knows how much of the truth they held, but he did ask. If someone doesn't want to know the possible answers to the question, most people do not ask at all. The fact that he did took some amount of courage." I stop for a moment, and look Garlan in the eyes. "Is this why you have not told Jurien that you are in love her?"

Garlan slumps against a tree trunk. "I see you have harsh words for me as well, Princess," he says, dropping his eyes from mine. "You think me cowardly. I…don't believe that I am good enough for her."

"Sometimes the truth is necessary, however painful it might be," I say, noticing that Delora turns away from me as I say this. She has not yet revealed my own painful truth. "Why do you not think Jurien would be interested in you, were you to ask? What do you believe she is looking for?"

"Someone…better than me," Garlan shakes his head. "A better swordsman, a noble or even a prince maybe."

"She's a little too old for Rod," I say dryly, which does manage to get a half-hearted grin from my friend. He knows that his competition will not, at least, be in the form of a prince since Karma is not interested in her either. "Has it occurred to you that, since you are in love with her, your perceptions of what she deserves may not be entirely…reasonable? Or what she would want for herself, at least? There simply are not enough princes, princesses, lords, and ladies for everyone to have the glorious fairytale ending, and Jurien is a very practical woman."

"Has…" Garlan starts, voice about to crack, "you spend a lot of time with her. Has Jurien indicated to you what she does want?"

"If she had," I tell him, "it would probably be violating confidences with her to tell you. The question you should be asking yourself is whether or not I would be encouraging you to pursue her if I didn't think you at least had a fair chance."

He is silent for a moment, and I hear only the wind whistling through the branches of the tree. "No, you would not," he judges me. "I know that you were cursed for being cruel which might make me worry about that, but while you may be harsh sometimes this is usually due to your unflinching respect for the truth and relentless logic. When you rise to the throne, only the guilty and corrupt need fear you."

I nod, accepting the complement. "If a woman suspects, or even wishes, a man to confess to her and he does not…she starts to assume that he does not think her worth the risk. She knows that rejection and the risk of it is painful, but if he does not demonstrate the courage to overcome it, she will wonder if he would have the courage to defend _her_ safety should that become necessary."

Garlan's eyes pop wide open, and now I know that he is starting to understand. If he asks and Jurien agrees, they both gain everything. If he asks and she refuses, he will still have her respect if nothing else. Whatever answer she gives, it will end his torment over whether or not she might love him.

"If you decide to confess, do not tarry too long," I tell him, remembering one of my bloodier paths. "You have both chosen a dangerous profession, and no woman wants to hear a confession of love from a man while drowning in her own blood, or from a man doing the same. By then, it's too late to enjoy what you could have had together, and you might not be able to get it out on time anyway."

Garlan draws a shuddering breath, and then sighs. "You leave me no choice, Princess."

"You always have a choice. I have merely displayed the one I consider intelligent," I tell him.

He gives a wry grin at this. "If you have thought it out this well, I suppose you also have suggestions as to how she would prefer to be confessed to? In some ways, the two of you are not that dissimilar."

"Definitely in private," I tell him. "Probably not at the Marchen; there is just too much traffic. Go for simple instead of grandiose. To get her alone, you should probably do something like ask her to go with you for a meal. As good as Annice is, variety is the spice of life, so it is unlikely she would refuse that. When you are alone, just tell her."

"Karma has the patrol duty tonight," he says slowly, "and Jurien gets off of hers and should be here soon if you wish to end practice early."

 _He probably wants to get it over with before he loses his nerve. Not that I blame him…._ "Oh my goodness," I declare. "I suddenly have a splitting headache and do not wish to continue practice. I really must go lie down. You now have enough time to run to the inn and put on something you haven't managed to sweat through."

Garlan smiles at me gratefully, gathers the practice swords, and sprints for the inn leaving me with Delora. The witch remains silent until he has had enough time to enter the inn. "This was the good work you mentioned that you would do?" she asks. "What if things go wrong?"

"I think the magic will not count this as a good work until it actually produces good," I say. "This is why I need you to stay awake all night, until my action is judged. I predict a nine in ten chance of Jurien being surprised but agreeable."

"And the other one in ten chance?" Delora asks, glancing sidewise at me.

"That accounts for him losing his courage, deciding that comfortable friendship is more desirable than accepting the risk for something better," I answer her. "It is not an option that I would choose myself."

"Which is why you want me to curse you again," Delora says.

"I have to know, Delora," I tell her quietly. "Either he loves me or he does not. Even if he does, I don't think I would have him if he didn't have the courage to tell me about it. He would need that simply to have the makings of a good prince consort, and I cannot ignore my duty even for the sake of my heart."

Delora shifts uncomfortably. While dedication to duty is laudable and necessary, if I neglect my own heart that will put me at greater risk of the Tenebrarum's corruption. "Then I hope you can find an answer that can satisfy both," she tells me. "Which one is it?"

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Which one?" Delora asks me. "You spend the most time with Karma and Waltz."

"Why would that matter to you?" I ask. She obviously has not asked Jurien about this, or else Jurien also refused to answer that question. I also note that she does not discount that I might be in love with Karma, even after our conversation tonight. In theory, it could have been a harsh way of trying to find if he had any intentions toward me. "Do either of them have a problem that would make a future untenable between us?"

Delora does not answer me, her lips compressing into a thin line.

"I'm not going to tell you," I say. "That would be cheating, if you told him."

If I don't tell her, she will probably inform both that I have decided to extend my curse to give one of them further opportunity to confess love to me, and may have already done so. She has known and trusted Waltz for years so she may prefer him to be at my side, and Karma is a crown prince himself and not really eligible to me unless he abdicates. But I have been thawing out nicely, and whoever might help me continue down that path must be rendered to me.

It's that, or risk another Great War. Delora, Waltz, and Karma all know what is at stake. The three of them probably agree that Waltz would be ideal for me, but probably realize that if I were interested in Karma and he spurned me, that could create dangerous tension between our nations especially if I fell to corruption.

Come to think of it, Karma and Waltz may be having a conversation concerning that at this very moment, since Waltz disappeared from the clearing at about the same time Karma did. Karma is probably pushing Waltz to confess to me at the first opportunity he has, hoping to be able to succeed with that better than he has with trying to get Garlan to confess to Jurien. After all, Karma's own curse does not lend itself well to romantic interludes, to put it mildly.

I also suspect that Delora has agreed to re-curse me because it would be dangerous for me to reenter the palace. She must be certain that Myth is there, now. Little does she know that I have an…alternative use for extending my curse.

….

 _Author's note: Thank you all for reading, and an especial thank you for those of you that review! I answer the reviews that I can (meaning those given by people that are signed into their account), but for those of you that are not signed in…I still appreciate hearing from you!_


	14. A Walk in the Dark Before the Morning

**Chapter 14 A Walk in the Dark Before the Morning Light**

Before I go to sleep that night, Delora casts a spell that allows her to find me. I am not surprised when I wake in nearly pitch blackness in the dirt to find Delora shaking me.

"I take it that it worked," I tell her, sitting up against a wall. When I stretch, my muscles do not seem to be that stiff. I have not been here long. It would not surprise me if Delora had run straight toward me, not allowing me to be alone any longer than strictly necessary.

"Perfectly," Delora says. "It was cast within mere seconds of when your curse broke. You now have a pair of glass shoes in your room. Speaking of which, put these on and we can go back to the Marchen."

She hands me my regular shoes, which I put on immediately, and a simple tunic I put on over my rags. I could probably pass for a workwoman getting an early start on her day, or returning home late from it. Once I stand she gives me a light cloak, which I immediately put on and I pull the hood up as well. It is a little cool, and there is still a chance of someone recognizing me. The guards probably have my description by now, and are more likely to stop and check people at an hour when only drunks and thieves may not be in bed.

Which gives me an idea. "Delora," I say, "if someone stops us, you are my rather tipsy mistress that I am returning to her inn."

Delora starts. "Me tipsy, and you a servant? I would not have thought it possible."

"As mischievous as you are sober," I say, "I'm not sure that I would want to know what you would be like tipsy…or actually drunk. You'd probably accidently turn someone into a frog."

"And then I'd have to convince you to kiss said frog, which might be impossible. That is why I refrain from putting myself into that condition," she says, and then we both fall silent as we pass a closing bar, the last few drunks staggering out.

One of the drunks, a not yet balding man, walks our way and looks at the two of us. He dismisses Delora immediately, and I assume that he is looking for companionship rather than someone to rob. He smiles at me, possibly thinking he has better chances with a workwoman than a lady. "Aren't you a pretty…pretty one," he stammers, looking into my hood. It is so dark, I doubt he can see much of my features as it is, but a drunk seeking companionship would think anyone in a skirt 'pretty.' "How about a drink?" he asks, pointing to the now closed bar.

"That might not be a good idea," I tell him, smiling. "My lover is very jealous, and is probably wondering where I am. He might be looking for me."

"Your… _hic_ …lover?" he asks.

"Yes," I tell him, inventing wildly. "He's a blacksmith's apprentice."

"Just my luck," the drunk slurs. Even drunk, he knows being set upon by a man that might decide to pound his head like an anvil would be painful. "Goodbye ducky," he says before he staggers off.

Delora and I continue walking. "You…handled that well," she admits.

"That man was not dangerous," I say. "And it would be wise to avoid your…having to take action if possible. It is always possible that someone that _is_ dangerous is watching in some way."

"You are being very prudent," the witch admits.

"My goodness," I say, as if shocked. "Two complements from you within breaths? Am I dying, and you trying to make me comfortable in my last hours?"

Delora sighs. "I thought you said this would erase all debt between us."

"It has," I tell her. "That does not necessarily mean that I will refrain from speaking my mind. And it is true that you normally go out of your way to treat me as if I were a child. I know that I was one not long ago, but I believe that I have been maturing and would appreciate it if you acknowledged it."

She is silent for a minute as we continue to walk. "I…see your point," the witch finally tells me. "It was not until you asked me to curse you again that I really decided that you really had grown up."

"And why is that?" I ask.

"You wanted something…perhaps even needed it…and were unflinching about the price," Delora tells me. "A child would have attempted to mitigate the price, looked for some other way, even tried to get the price paid in another way. You did none of these things. You simply decided that what you wanted was worth what you had to pay for it, acknowledging reality for what it was."

"That seems like the most efficient method to me," I say. "Reality does not simply disappear because you don't like it. It's best to meet it head on."

"It's not always that easy," Delora says. "Sometimes there are truths so painful, the only way people can cope is by ignoring them."

"I would like to think myself stronger than that," I tell her, and Delora actually flinches. She hopes that I am indeed stronger than that. "I take it that you have something uncomfortable that you need to tell me?" I ask.

Delora draws a deep breath. "Yes, but I would rather do so when Parfait gets back. She wanted to be there in case you had…difficult questions."

"You want to wait for Parfait, and she wants to wait for you. And I don't really see how the two of you keep missing each other." I look carefully around, the first rays of the sun revealing that we are still alone as we near the Marchen. "Was my mother the Tenebrarum Bearer?" I ask. "Was she a corrupted witch that forced my father to marry her, and then started a war?" I do not bother to keep the pain from my voice. This truth still hurts, even after as many years as I have known it.

"I will not lie to you, Lucette," Delora says sadly. "That's exactly what she was. How did you know?"

"It's a theory that fits every certain fact," I say. "Especially the detail that everyone assumes my big secret will be painful to me."

Delora shakes her head as she looks at me. "You are taking it well…much better than anyone expected."

I snort, even though I know how unladylike it is to do so. "Well?" I ask. "I simply have the self-control to wait until I reach my room. Then, I plan to cry and scream into my pillow." Along with acting, self-control is another skill I have developed over the years. Otherwise, everyone would be sure that there was something wrong with me right away if I did not act 'appropriately.'

Delora says nothing to my statement, and there isn't really anything that she can say.

I sigh. There is something she should know, especially in the light of how I have been treating her this cycle. "Just so you know," I tell her quietly, "I actually do like you. I know that sometimes necessity makes some amount of…unpleasantness…inevitable. But I know that you try your best with what you have to work with, and I can respect that."

Delora turns to me, eyes wide in surprise. She probably does not realize that my words have a double meaning, that I had to harshly demand she re-curse me, instead of merely referencing that I knew that cursing me in the first place was the only choice she had. "I…thank you," she tells me. "I wish that the…unpleasantness had never been necessary." Then she shakes her head at me. "I never suspected that you _liked_ me. Maybe if I had known, I might not have treated you as a…."

"Petulant child?" I guess, and Delora nods. "I cannot afford childhood anymore, Delora. I cannot afford even the pretense of it. It no longer fits me." And it really doesn't fit…nor should it.

My last embers of the comfortable assurance that someone else would take care of matters have gone cold in the face of my stark reality. While I might trust some others to help me, I know that I have horrors that I must defeat myself.

We see no one when we reach the inn, though I think I hear Annice starting her preparations in the kitchen. When I do reach my room, I really do scream and bawl into my pillow. Every time I 'find out' about mother, it's like a scab has been ripped from my heart. The pain of it has never truly stopped. I wish that the lie Father had told me had been the truth—that she had been killed in an accident during the war…that she had been an ordinary queen that had simply met an early demise.

That lie had been so much more comfortable than the truth.

Delora stays with me, and I do not try to dissuade her, as she strokes my hair, rubs my back, or hugs me until I return to sleep. As my eyelids do finally drop as my tears subside, I remember wishing that my mother had been more like Delora. Or even my father. At least, Delora tries to comfort me in my distress.

….

I wake to the clank of a tray being placed on my table, and I moan and roll over in bed.

"Sorry Lucette," a male voice says. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I blink, and rub the sleep out of my eyes. The first thing I notice is that there is enough light in my room to make it nearly midday, and the second is that Waltz is in my room setting a tray of food on my table. I look down, and find myself in a nightgown I have never seen before, one with a high enough neck that my necklace is hidden. I assume Delora probably transformed what I had been wearing into the nightgown.

"It's probably time that I get up anyway," I tell him stretching, but I do not get out of bed or remove my blankets. After all, he may be the love of my life, but we are not married and I am in a nightgown. It occurs to me to wonder how I let Chevalier take the liberties that he did…but then, I suppose I was on the rebound at the time. "I'm half surprised no one woke me for my chores."

Waltz shakes his head at me. "You had a late night. Delora says that you figured it out, and asked her about your mother last night."

I wonder if that was all Delora told him. "That's correct," I admit, and the grimace. "That means that my mother is the one that killed your family and cursed you, right?"

He sighs, and sits in a chair next to my bed to take my hand in his. "Yes, she did, but that has no bearing on you."

"That's why most of the customers here despise me, because of who my mother was," I tell him sadly.

"And they are wrong to feel that way about you," he says, squeezing my hand. "You are not your mother; you are, and always have been, your own person."

"And she arguably did more to you than to anyone else here," I tell him, and he does not object to this statement. "How can you stand me?" I ask quietly.

"How can I stand...?" Waltz asks, as if surprised I can even ask the question. "Lucette, I love you. I always have," he tells me, sounding pained.

"You…love me?" I ask, sitting up in bed still holding onto his hand. Suddenly, I no longer care that I am in my nightgown.

"Yes, I love you Lucette," he says earnestly, trying to read my features, and smiles wryly when he cannot. "Even when you were a child, you had a light about you that even your mother had hard time trying to diminish. And you've grown into a beautiful, brilliant young woman, little star, and you never fail at astounding me. But I don't know if you…."

He stops talking when I let go of his hand to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. He is startled at first, but then leans into me as he kisses me back. When we finally have to come up for air, he looks at me with his red eyes wide open, quite clearly shocked. "You…you…," he stammers.

"Yes Waltz, I love you too," I admit, grinning widely. "Was I being too subtle in my hints?"

His mouth is wide open for a moment before he can close it. "I wasn't sure if you were saying what you actually meant, or if I was hearing what I wanted to hear. How long have you…."

And I cannot tell him that I first decided that I loved him more than a year ago. "I'm not sure you would still think me prudent if I told you that," I say, hinting that it has been some time. "I'm just happy that you finally told me."

He smiles, and gives a quiet laugh. "Well, since I can't exactly ask your father under the current circumstances, I'll have to ask you. May I formally court you, my princess?"

"I think you'd better," I tell him. "You _are_ in my room with the two of us alone, and me in…something of a state of undress."

He starts, realizing that I am still in his arms, and only a relatively thin nightgown separates his hands from my warm body. He turns as red as a sunset as he lets go of me. "Sorry," he stammers, and I cannot help but laugh quietly as I get up to put my robe on.

When I finish fastening the belt of my robe, I return to sit on my bed and face him again. He is still very red. "Under these circumstances, maybe a betrothal would be even more appropriate," I say giving him the grin I always do when I tease him, and he even turns more red.

"All I was intending to do is bring you your breakfast," he stammers.

"I know," I say, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "You are very sweet, and still _so_ much fun to tease."

He laughs, the red finally dying down from his cheeks, as he shakes his head. "I suppose I will have to get use to your teasing, since you seem to enjoy it so much."

"It's one of the many ways you are able to make me smile," I tell him with a smile of my own. "In all seriousness, though, I would enjoy being courted by you. I won't even demand that you start on protocol lessons immediately."

"Protocol lessons?" Waltz asks, as if that never entered his mind.

"I'm a princess," I tell him, "and if we decide to make this permanent and marry eventually, you will need to be presentable in court. You would need to learn things like how to dance, which fork to use for dessert, and that it is not permissible to turn even disagreeable foreign ministers into frogs for example."

He chuckles. "I already know not to turn even disagreeable people into frogs. But you are implying I could be openly a witch?"

I shrug. "I see no reason for that to be kept secret. I'm also assuming that I will inherit the Tenebrarum and my own magic will manifest at some point. Everyone will know that I am a witch, so it wouldn't be a reach to have another as my consort."

He is quiet for a moment. "Your magic will manifest when you turn eighteen. You will inherit control of the Tenebrarum at the same time, and your curse will break automatically then as well." He sighs. "You may consider me shortsighted, but I…." He stops to take a deep breath. "I was so concerned about whether or not I could win your heart, I never really stopped to think what could happen if I did. I've never really considered what life would be as your consort…or to even be openly a witch."

"That is the price of winning a princess…any princess at all," I tell him. "Your whole life would change, becoming vastly more complicated. I just want to make sure that you understand this before we get…too involved. If it was a burden that you think yourself unable to bear, there is no real point in starting a courtship at all."

Waltz smiles at me. "I would do anything for you, my star," he says, "even take protocol lessons. As long as you are beside me, I really do not care what other burdens I must bear."

I smile up at him. "I didn't doubt you, but I still had to ask."

"If you like," he says, "we can start on the dancing lessons in the evenings you aren't beating on the knights. If you wish to teach me yourself, that is."

"I do not believe there is any practice scheduled tonight," I tell him. "I'll see you then."


	15. The Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter 15 The Calm Before the Storm**

After Waltz leaves, I eat the 'breakfast' he brought me, dress, collect the empty tray and go downstairs only to find myself helping with the lunch rush by handing out trays. After lunch is over, Sir Broom and I return the floor to its state of spotlessness, and I sit down with a snack instead of procuring a full meal.

"How did you do it?" comes from behind me.

I turn around, having just taken a bite, to find Karma standing behind me, looking somewhat annoyed. Standing behind him is Garlan, looking a little uncomfortable himself, but grinning just the same.

I swallow my food. "I take it that your confession went well?" I ask, ignoring Karma's question as I see to important matters first.

"Very well actually," Garlan admits. "I can't thank you enough for pushing me into it, Princess."

"I've been trying for months," Karma continues. "Months! And the _minute_ you open your mouth on the subject, he listens to _you_!"

"I can be very convincing when I wish to be," I tell him, and Garlan nods emphatically. Karma rubs his head as if he has a headache. "And apparently, I am much more persuasive than you."

"Persuasive?" Karma asks.

"Actually," I admit, after looking around to notice that we were enjoying relative privacy, "some of it was the results of my own…frustrations. I've actually been waiting for Waltz to confess to me for some time now. He finally got around to it this morning."

Garlan's eyes widen in surprise, and Karma's features relax giving weight to my assumption that Delora may have told both him and Waltz that I had asked her to extend my curse and why. If I had to guess, Karma likes and respects me at this point, but love would be a stretch and he would rather not force the issue. He might turn into a beast if he tried. Now it is no longer a concern for him as I have declared my intentions elsewhere.

"Well," I tell Garlan, "sit down and tell me about how things went with Jurien." Both men join me at my table, and I no longer have to crane my neck to talk to them.

"Actually," Garlan admits, "she didn't even realize what I was asking until later and just thought that I was after food. When she did realize…well…she was surprised, but happy."

"Well, I'm happy for you two," I tell him. "It's about time."

"And I'm happy for you and Waltz, Princess," Garlan tells me. "He's one of the few men I think might be able to keep up with you." He looks around. "I'm sorry to leave, but Delora wanted me to check on something this afternoon and it's about time I was going."

"Don't let her work you too hard," I tell him as the knight excuses himself and walks through the front door. Karma remains at the table, still looking a bit unhappy. I take a few bites before asking, "So, what is troubling you?"

"Is that what you really think of me?" Karma asks. "What you said last night at practice, I mean."

I shrug. "I simply gave theories as to how you got cursed, and potential reasons you might have for being here. I know that I could have been way off, but you give others so little information about yourself. I feel for as much time as we spend in each other's company, you give very little information as to who you are now, and almost nothing as to what you once were." He is silent at that, not answering, so I continue. "You implied that I was correct in some way in my theories last night. What was I right about?"

He sighs. "I was a heartbreaker. I was selfish, not caring how many young women I hurt in the quest for what I thought I wanted, and the thrill of the chase. Finally, I broke the heart of a witch. Unlike most of the others here, I actually somewhat deserve my curse. That's…one of the reasons I'm not open about it. I'm not really the victim of a witch as much as I am being disciplined by one, and it is rather embarrassing to have to admit it."

"And did that discipline work?" I ask, preferring to get to the point. "Were your curse gone, would you return to flippantly breaking hearts, or have you changed for the better?"

"After having my own heart broken?" he says, and I know he is referring to the woman with the beautiful smile that he genuinely fell in love with after he had been cursed. The girl had been scared of him after he turned into the beast, instead of continuing to love him in spite of his form. "I can't honestly believe that I would deliberately inflict that on others."

"Then you have changed. It's never too late for that, if you want it bad enough," I say, and Karma nods.

"You taught me that," he admits. "Though…I never really thought you as icy as you were described, once I got to know you a bit."

"And why did you immediately try to get on my good side before finding that out?" I ask, and Karma looks uncomfortable again. "I guessed what my mother was last night, and Delora confirmed it for me. I know it won't be long before I am capable of breaking curses myself. I guess that that was what you wanted of me?"

Karma sighs. "I tried to break my curse on my own, and could not. I saw you as my only way out. Even knowing that, would you still help me?"

"Of course," I answer, and Karma's dour mood immediately disappears. "You will understand, though, if I give Rod priority? My family will always come before my friends."

"By all means, Princess," Karma tells me, apparently quite pleased that his own cure is finally within reach, and probably not dissatisfied at all that I consider him my friend. Quite aside from personal issues, we will be neighboring monarchs one day, and it is always good to have a friend on your border. If nothing else, no one would try to invade his country through mine. Who would march their armies though the land of a powerful, if mostly benevolent, witch? Witches have been known to be quite territorial, even the good ones. "Your family should always be your first consideration." He is silent for a moment. "By the way…my name is actually Klaude Almonte. I…think I owe you my real name."

"As in the missing crown prince of Brugantia?" I ask, and he nods. "Well, it's always good to have a friend at your back," I tell him, and he smiles at me gratefully. "I just hope you don't return home one day to find your name on a gravestone."

"Err…my thoughts exactly," he admits.

That evening, I start teaching Waltz to dance after he magically stacks tables and chairs to the side of the common room to give us a dancefloor after the Marchen closes for the night. He is familiar with some steps, as the common folk also dance, but the more formalized dances seen in elegant balls are more complicated. However, he has the quick hands and feet of someone that has been earning a living as a street entertainer and learns quickly.

I smile at him as he spins me in his arms, having gotten the step perfect on only the second try. I wish time would stop, right here; that neither of us would have to face the brutal realities that will soon descend.

But I know that I cannot stop time. I can only relive it.

….

It is not long before Parfait returns, and she and Delora go into detail about my mother, and how she was corrupted, and that my memories were erased so I was unaware that she was even a witch. I already know these things, but I find it necessary for me to have a logical way to 'find out' about them. I ask more questions than I usually do, to give 'theories' I will expound on later more credence.

The next weeks are the sweetest I have ever experienced during any of my cycles…or during my entire life for that matter. I spend my mornings with my chores while Waltz performs in town. It is only when he can give me his total attention in the afternoons that I go with him, with Jurien trailing us like an older sister chaperoning two lovers. There is always a specific purpose in our walks, like an amusement or a sweet he wants me to try, but we do not wander far from the Marchen anymore. My safety has now become paramount, as it has been discovered that the knights are now looking for someone of my description as well.

I think I see Fritz one day out of the corner of my eye, as I am hanging on Waltz's arm as we walk. I pretend not to see him, distracted by something that Waltz says that makes me laugh. When I glance back in the same direction, he is not looking at me, but at Jurien who walks a couple of steps behind us. He nods, and turns around to walk in the other direction away from us. He was not so far from me that I was unable to read the pain on his face. And I have to wonder if this is the last time I will see Fritz as Fritz…if I have lost my friend forever. I know very well that he dies sometimes, and if this is my final try, as I hope it is….

One day, Waltz takes me to a fortune teller. Unlike most performers, this one is a very old witch who, while not corrupted, has gone somewhat batty with age. She takes one look at Waltz's hands, and tells him that his life depends on some other man loving his lover enough to let her choose who she wants. She takes one look at mine and tells me, "The hidden snakes' blood on your white, your greatest enemy's blood on the white of power and sanctuary, and your blood on the white of hallowed ground…so young, to be so old, so burdened. Are you strong enough, not to be crushed and corrupted this time either? Will you prove yourself stronger than your mother, or her equal? How many times do you have to do this again?"

I turn white, knowing at least some of what she is talking about. Is unflinching strength what the Tenebrarum requires of me? Does it really care what outcomes I forge, so long as the results are all deliberate? And, I realize…none of my other endings were caused by my deliberation, even if they occurred due to my own choices. In nearly every time through, someone dear to me died, and it was not my will that that happened. Had I deliberately sacrificed them, perhaps the cycle might have stopped…but that's not what transpired. The only time when no one I was close to died was when I loved Rod, and had been able to keep him alive…but I had accidently fallen in love with him. I had never intended to be in love with my stepbrother. I always knew that it would cause complications.

But this time, I am in love with Waltz because I intended to be. Perhaps no one close to me can die, unless I sacrifice them on purpose, if I want to stop this cycle once and for all. And I don't know what hardness of heart would require me to send someone I love to their death on purpose.

And I know that it is all or nothing this time. I cannot afford to hold anything back at all…though I still have to wonder what this 'blood on white' business is about. The first two implied that the blood of an enemy would be shed…but the third was my own blood.

Waltz simply looks at me, confused, as we leave. "There is something in that you were able to understand that I could not," he tells me, half asking.

"Ask me when I turn nineteen," I tell him. "I will explain then." _If I ever turn nineteen, I will be more than happy to explain this all to you._ I turn to look at him as we walk back. "Is she usually accurate? If so…we both have a reason to worry for you."

Waltz frowns. "Not to mention you. The blood of your enemies being shed is one thing, but yours is another. Either she is dead on, or so far off reality does not exist for her. There is really no middle ground for her."

 _And no middle ground for me._

The dancing lessons continue, when I do not practice with the sword, and Waltz is getting proficient enough that no one would comment on lack of skill were he at a ball. He is not as good as Rod, but now leads me seamlessly through the steps of the various dances I have taught him. After the tables and chairs are replaced, we retire to the reception room to sit in one of the couches. Sometimes we talk, or play a game, or simply cuddle by the fire. There is also some kissing, which we try to keep in private but occasionally someone does walk in on us. Jurien tells me in confidence that the customers of the Marchen are starting to make bets as to how long it will be before we marry, or one of us are at least found in the other's bed. I groan to her that I wish they would mind their own business, but I also realize that this means that I am no longer feared by the cursed who frequent the Marchen. I guess a woman in love is really not that scary…unless she thinks someone is poaching her man…and everyone knows better than to try that.

As sweet as this time is, I know that it cannot last. Still, I feel like I have been brought down from a cloud when Rod visits, and asks to talk to me as well as Parfait and we enter the private dining room to talk.

"The guard has just been doubled," Sebby says for Rod. "There is no given reason. I've tried asking Father, trying to arouse his suspicions, but it does not work. He simply trusts Alcaster too blindly."

"And have you tried to get your mother and sister out of the palace?" I ask. "If there has been a significant change in the guard…I'm afraid the coup is imminent."

Parfait nods, agreeing with me. "I'm afraid that it is vital that they leave, Rod."

Rod's mouth tightens. "Every time I try, Mythros comes up with some excuse, and Father listens to him."

"Then get them out of the palace and into the Marchen now; do it tonight," I tell him. "Tell them it is an emergency, and if not a coup then make up a different one."

"Such as…?" my stepbrother asks me.

"Lie if you have to," I tell him. "It's not like you haven't done that before."

"How…do you know that I've lied to them before?" he asks me.

"Did you lie to them when you told them about your curse?" I ask.

He is quiet for a moment. "I…yes, I did lie about it."

"You used it to make yourself a prince, but it's potentially fatal," I say, as if guessing, when I know that I am not. "Just like in the story? And you haven't told me that you've successfully found a lover, yourself."

"They can't do anything about it," he admits. "Knowing would only cause them pain. And her wedding…is soon, but not immediate. I might live long enough for you to be able to dispel my curse."

I take a deep breath. "Tell a partial truth, if you do not want to tell a full-fledged lie. Say it's about breaking your curse. There's a witch that could help you, but you have to negotiate price. She is currently friendly with, and a guest of, the Lucis Bearer. The time she will be staying at the Marchen is…undetermined."

If that does not get Ophelia running out of the palace, nothing will.

Rod…and Sebby…are silent for a moment. "Would you really demand a price?" he finally asks.

I shrug. "Maybe I'd like to hear you sing sometime."

"Done," he says immediately.

"Rod…" I say, choosing my words carefully, "there is also the chance that the coup has occurred while you were out of the palace. If so, there is a risk to you in returning, and no benefit I can see to you joining our family in captivity."

I am surprised when Rod grins at me. "Our family?" he notes. "You have always said 'your mother and sister,' but now it's 'our family?'"

"Maybe I've decided that family is anyone I'd fight for, rather than simply blood relatives," I answer. "If worst comes to worst, you do remember that my style of fighting may be…unconventional."

"And I hope unnecessary," Sebby says for Rod, then he pauses for a minute. "Garlan tells me that you secretly trained under a knight, one that wasn't Fritz, and he guesses it was probably for a couple of years. No one ever found out until you picked up a practice sword, and started beating on Garlan. Is that true?"

 _In a fashion…._ "Yes, I did train for a couple of years. You are the first person from the palace to know," I tell him truthfully…well, sort of truthfully. My past and this present do not always mesh well together. "I take it that you are returning to the palace, then?"

"It's a risk I have to take," Rod tells me. "I won't forgive myself if I could have made a difference, but did not."

"I understand," I tell him. "If they will not come with you, come back by yourself immediately. Otherwise, we will assume that you are a prisoner." Rod nods, and both Parfait and I bid him goodbye.

I sit up that night, with Waltz beside me, as we nervously wait for Rod to return with any of our family. We try to play cards for a while, trying to pass the time, but eventually I close my eyes intending to rest them for only a few minutes. When I open them, sunlight is creeping through the windows. I look up at Waltz, who apparently never went to sleep, and he shakes his head sadly at me. I close my eyes again, but against tears. I do not protest when Waltz carries me up the stairs, to put me in my own bed, and I do not bother to do more than kick off my shoes when he covers me with my blankets.

As I finally surrender again to sleep, one thought roles through my mind.

 _To save them…to stop this…I must appear to be exactly as my mother. This…will hurt._

…..


	16. All or Nothing

**Chapter 16 All or Nothing**

"I have to go back to the palace," I say, addressing the two witches and the fairy before me. It is evening, and some of the others confirmed that the palace is indeed closed down from the outside world. I requested to talk to Parfait, Delora, and Waltz together…and alone. I will need their help to have any hope of success, and I know that they will be the strongest opponents to my plan.

"No!" all three say at once, and they glance nervously at each other, trying to figure out which could best convince me to change my mind. The eyes of the two women land on Waltz.

"But you're the one in the most risk," Waltz tries to remind me. "It's your actions they want to manipulate."

"But neither Myth nor Sir Alcaster will want to kill me…at least right off," I explain. "They will want to use me, and I would be useless dead. I can be used to give legitimacy to the coup; as the rightful heir, I could be sat on the throne as soon as everyone remembers who I am. I can pretend to give them both what they want."

"Don't forget that you will be bound to your word," Delora reminds me. "You cannot promise them something you will not deliver."

"So I won't," I respond. "I know perfectly well how to be vague. And I am a very good actress." I sigh as I look out the window, towards the palace. "If I am correct, Myth and Alcaster's alliance is held by fraying strings. If they do not find a common purpose again, and soon, they will turn on each other…and that will be bloody. If Alcaster kills Myth, he will take the crown for himself and kill my whole family. If Myth destroys Alcaster, whatever guards Myth controls by magic will fight those influenced by Alcaster. His eventual goals are less clear, but they seem to involve me as he is searching so desperately for me. If I had to guess, he wants to set me up in my mother's place, but with himself as my…mentor…rather than accepting a subservient role. Another, more dangerous possibility is that when my mother fueled the Tenebrarum at the end of the Great War, she placed _herself_ in it rather than just her magic and is not wholly dead yet."

Three faces become bloodless, Parfait squeezes her eyes shut. "That is a possibility I have thought of, but never dared speak. If that is, in fact, what happened…you cannot go anywhere near the Tenebrarum once you turn eighteen…not until its power transfer to you is complete. If you so much as make physical contact with it during the time the transfer is taking place, Hildyr could be freed."

I nod. "Which is why, if you are going to infiltrate the palace to try to help me, you must be able to find me on midnight on my birthday. If I had to take a guess, the Tenebrarum is somewhere in or near the secret passages…unless you think we could find and move it here?" I ask Parfait.

The fairy shakes her head. "It will not move for anything less than the will of the current Bearer," she answers. "And we do not possess that resource, yet."

"If worst comes to worst," Waltz asks me, running a hand through his hair, "what do you think it is that you could possibly offer Myth that would convince him to not make you release your mother?"

I find that I cannot meet my lover's eyes nor answer him, but he catches my meaning even without my words. "No!" he yells, and I find myself pressed against the wall as he holds me there. "I can't let you go…I can't let you _do_ that!"

"Would it work?" I ask, meeting his eyes mercilessly.

"Lucette…." I have never heard my name said with so much pain.

"Would it work?" I ask again, not letting anything but determination fill my features.

He doesn't answer me, searching my eyes for anything that says that I might not think this necessary.

"My entire family will probably die if I do nothing. If you could go back and do something…anything…to save yours, would you?" I ask.

His grip on me slackens, and I start to see grim acceptance in his eyes.

"I love you, and only you," I tell him. "Nothing that will or may happen will change that. Now, would it work? You know him better than I."

Waltz finally squeezes his eyes shut, letting me go. "It could work. He worshiped your mother, but she never allowed him to entertain any kind of…romantic entanglement between them even though he greatly desired that she count him worthy of it. It would have been his ultimate prize. If he sees you as the perfect replacement for her…it would probably work."

"I'm sorry to have to ask this of you all," I say, taking the women in my request as well, "but I need each of you to tell me everything you remember about my mother, so I can imitate her perfectly. You have three days before I leave."

Parfait looks as if she is on the edge of tears, Delora like she might throw up, but both women nod. Waltz is still ashen and downcast, and seems as motionless as one of his puppets, hanging on its strings in the closet. "Waltz?" I ask running my hand through his hair as I lift his face so I can see his eyes.

"You are merciless," he tells me. "You know that, right?"

"I know that I have just asked the man I love to teach me how to seduce his bitterest rival by imitating the woman that killed his family," I say. "Don't you know that this causes me pain too?" I say sharply, some of the anguish leaching into my voice.

Regaining some sense of purpose, he covers my hand that still caresses his face with his own hand. "I'm sorry. I know that if there was another way, you would take it." He brightens for a moment. "We could just go and grab your family and bring them all back here."

I give him a tiny smile and shake my head. "You would be able to get my stepmother and her children out, but not my father…not unless you knocked him unconscious first. He considers it his duty to remain in the palace, and would stay there even if it would be suicidal to do so." He prefers martyrdom to his nation erupting in civil war, which could happen if he had to raise an army to take back what was rightfully his.

"I'm not against kidnapping the king if that's the only thing that would work," he responds.

I raise an eyebrow. "And then we let Myth and Alcaster kill each other? And the spellbound knights fight Alcaster's? The servants will be cleaning the bloodstains for months. Those bewitched people have families, too. Many of them are men and women just like Garlan and Jurien," I shake my head. "It would be better to kill Myth first, and take Alcaster alive putting him in an obviously disgraced position so his knights don't fight. I would suggest Parfait be in charge of catching Alcaster, but out of the actual fighting. Either you or Delora would have to quickly dispel the spells holding the knights loyal to the king once Myth is dead. We might invite all the good witches and fairies we can find in the city to help with that."

He sighs. "You are set on this course of action."

"I don't see a way that requires less blood," I say.

Waltz swallows hard. "Neither do I." There is a long pause, his breathing somewhat ragged. "Then," he finally says, "so be it."

…

For the next two days, I spend every waking moment with Delora, Waltz, and Parfait as they prepare me for my role. The rest of the Marchen only knows us 'in conference' but there is too much to do to explain things until I am gone. There would only be more protesting from the rest of our little family, and I have to be hardening my heart against any protests…those I have suffered already were strong enough. Someone might take it upon themselves to stop me from what I know I must do.

By the end, the night before I go, I feel raw, ragged. I remember being horrified when I first heard stories about who and what my mother was, but now I have been hearing everything about her metamorphosis from someone I would have liked to have known into a horrific monster. I have known that even my existence was the result of one of her crimes—she essentially raped my father to conceive me—but now my lover has been giving me situations as if play rehearsals in which I must now act and imitate my monster of a mother. And I have been doing so well, even Parfait appears frightened of me…or, perhaps she is frightened for me.

I ready myself for bed, but within ten minutes I realize that I will not be able to sleep like this. I do not want to be alone, but I need to be well rested to face tomorrow. I can make no mistakes.

Feeling as if I have done this before, knowing that I have done this before, I get up and put my robe on before finding Waltz's room. I knock on the door, and wait until he opens it.

Waltz is also in pajamas, and obviously not sleepy. On the table behind him, a puppet he appears to be re-stringing lies face up, staring at the ceiling. "I couldn't sleep," I say as he lets me into his room and shuts the door.

"Neither could I," he confesses.

"I noticed," I say, gesturing towards the puppet. We are both quiet for a long minute.

"Tomorrow…" he tries to start, but gets no further.

"I know," is all I can think of to say, then I take a deep breath. "May I stay with you tonight?"

"Um," he says, running a hand in his hair, his cheeks turning pink. "I'm not sure if that would be a good idea…."

He is unsure exactly what it is that I am asking of him. The first time I did this, I was so innocent, I did not think of what else he might think I was suggesting that we do. While I have never mated any of the young men I fell in love with, I had started having discussions with a couple about that possibility when we started talking of marriage.

"Can you hold me? _Just_ hold me?" I say, trying to make myself more clear. "Your presence is…a comfort."

"I think I would do anything you asked me to," he says softly, meeting my eyes. "Alright."

We both climb into his bed, which is obviously meant for only one person, but my back is flush against his chest as we lie side-by-side and his arms are tight around me. The bed does not feel small, like this. However, his body still feels as stiff as it did the first time I spent a night with him like this.

"You know," he tells me as we settle in, "this probably means that we're officially betrothed now."

I laugh softly. "Now, _you_ are the one teasing _me_."

"I would never have anyone else," he says softly, and I turn around to face him in the bed.

"Waltz, you know with what could happen…I cannot give you that promise now, as much as I want to," I tell him. We both know that it's not impossible that Myth would demand that I marry him to keep my family alive, and that that might occur before Waltz and the others can get to me to stop it. Marriage to anyone would be impossible were I already engaged, and Myth would know that something was up; I cannot make a promise I might not be able to keep.

"I know," he says, bushing a tear from my cheek that I hadn't realized that I had shed. "That does not change that I would still offer my pledge to you." Even if he were not a witch, bound to his word…I know that he would not break this promise to me. And I realize, that this is the closest anyone has ever come to officially proposing marriage to me, and it hurts that I cannot immediately take him up on his offer…I will not accept his pledge until I can give him my own.

"I love you," is all I can say, but it appears to be enough. He kisses me gently on the forehead before rolling onto his back, and I change my position to rest my head on his chest, pillowed directly over his beating heart. I listen to its gentle thud-thud as I try to relax. Waltz wraps his arm around my shoulders, gently stroking my hair with his other hand.

As my eyelids finally grow heavy, I realize that although his hands are now still, Waltz's breathing has not reached the calm evenness common to sleep. I wonder if he is even planning to sleep…or just savor my presence until morning when he has to let me go.

…..

The next morning, I reluctantly disentangle myself from Waltz, who has appeared to have finally surrendered to sleep after all, only to find two breakfast trays waiting on his table. _Parfait, Delora, or…did someone else see me enter Waltz's room but not leave?_ It occurs to me to hope that it was friend with the capacity to keep her mouth shut, rather than someone who would be informing the gambling customers.

I guess it doesn't really matter at this point, and return to my own room long enough to dress. When I return, Waltz is still asleep, but I reluctantly wake him. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty," I say, giving him a kiss. "It's going to be a full day."

He opens his eyes, and smiles at me before noticing the trays on the table. "You even got me breakfast. And here I thought that _I_ should be the one spoiling _you_."

I shake my head. "That was there when I woke, but we should probably eat it before it gets cold."

"Who…" he trails off, blushing.

I shrug. "Obviously, someone that knew that I would be seeking your company last night."

I guess that I am probably blushing a little, myself.

We spend the rest of the morning, after breakfast, with Parfait and Delora going over final details, and contingency plans. I know that the best plan last only until the first shot is fired, but it is still a good idea to know how everyone will likely adapt to different circumstances. No one mentions the trays, and I do not ask.

Lunch is taken with the rest of the boarders, but it is a somber affair. Everyone knows that Parfait, Delora, Waltz, and myself have closeted ourselves for three days, and a blind monkey could tell that we are all on edge. As lunch closes, Parfait announces that there will be a special meeting in two hours' time, and no one looks surprised. I try to eat…but even Annice's best efforts tastes like ashes.

The sky outside is overcast, and it is starting to rain. Both myself and Waltz…who will be escorting me to the palace gates…wear our cloaks with our hoods up as we begin to walk to the palace. My hair is not in my usual style, worn down today, more closely resembling how my mother wore her hair. My semblance to her is unmistakable, and I am sure it is what will get me through the gates. In the meantime, I try to savor the presence of the man next to me as we walk towards my battle. It helps keep me from shaking. It begins to rain harder, and even the wool of my cloak begins to dampen.

At least wool is still warm, even when wet.

When we are a few blocks from the gates of the palace, Waltz pulls me into a windowless alley, under an outcropping of a roof that gives us some relief from the downpour. I tilt my head up expecting a kiss, and receive it. We just stand there, holding each other for a long moment before he finally speaks.

"Lucette, I want you to know…" his voice starts to crack, and Waltz has to take a deep breath before he can continue. "I want you to know that whatever you have to do to save your father…I understand. I hope and pray that you won't have to go very far, but if even if you must…it won't change the way that I love you, it won't change the way that I treat you."

I am in very real danger of crying, but he continues.

"Your father is a good man, and suffered much for the woman he loved at the hands of your mother," Waltz tells me, and I know it to be the truth. It was for Ophelia that he married my mother, and then acted as a puppet king…but he saved the life of the woman he loved, and was eventually able to marry her. "In that, you are both so similar, that you are even willing to try this. I know that you will have to hurt your father to save him, but he will forgive you for it. Cause whatever wounds you must in order to heal your family and kingdom."

He tilts my chin up with a finger. "Be ruthless my beautiful, blazing, shining star."

I smile up at him…he has so much confidence in me, it's almost unnerving. It should be unnerving…but I feel strength returning to my limbs as if warmth from a roaring fire after coming in from the coldest winters' day. And, apparently, I am no longer his 'little' star. "Thank you, my love. That was exactly what I needed. It's no wonder my heart belongs to you alone."

I kiss him again, more fiercely this time, and pull my hood up as we exit the alley together. He stops by a knothole in a fence across from the palace, where he can see the gate but not be seen from it, and I continue on alone. As I take each step, I chant in my own head. _I am Hildyr's daughter._ _I care for no one but myself. I trust no one; I seek only to use others. Power_ will _be mine._

I bury the woman I have become, swath her in layers of indifference and cruelty, until it is safe for my true self to emerge again. Even the selfish princess that was cursed from memory is but a child compared to myself. After all, I have spent months 'acting' good to attempt to rid myself of my curse to reclaim my birthright…only to find that the 'good' fairy has been trying to control me and hiding that I do not need to break my curse. I now know that my curse will dispel on its own.

I am now a monster equal to my mother. Perhaps I am more pragmatic, after all I do not waste without reason, but the fear of my glorious self will come upon Angielle as I claim my throne.

I approach the guards stationed at the gate. They are in two, discernably separate camps. The eyes of half appear glazed, the rest sharp and growing somewhat tense. They, at least, know that the palace is now nearly ready to burst unless there is another route for the pressure to escape.

I have arrived at just the right time.

I lower my hood, even though it is raining, to allow the oldest and ranking knight there to get a good look at my face. I realize that I know his face, that Sir Willard is one of my father's most senior knights. His grey eyes are somewhat glazed, telling me that this man is under a spell rather than serving Alcaster willingly, but there is also enough sharpness in his gaze left to suggest that he is attempting to fight that spell. When he sees my face, the greying man looks shocked, but falls on his knees immediately before me. He has been told to watch for me, who I am, and to allow me entry.

But I decide to make myself clear anyway. "I am Hildyr's daughter," I tell the men, "and the rightful heir to the throne. You will open the gates."

The rest of the men decide to follow the example of the aging knight, either falling to their knees before me, or rushing to obey me by opening the gate. Two of them, one from each camp, run towards the palace presumably to tell their respective commanders. I raise my hood again, against the rain, and I do not look back for my lover as I walk back into my rightful home.


	17. In the Wolves' Den, As a Wolf

**Chapter 17. In the Wolves' Den, As a Wolf**

I am secretly glad that my curse will not judge my actions until the results are known, as in the case of when I gave Garlan a shove. Otherwise, my simply walking through the gates to put myself in danger for the sake of my family and kingdom could have given me a good work. I need to have no good works evident on my necklace at least long enough for Myth to see it. I do not think it will be long before I see one or both of the traitors.

A servant at the entryway opens the door for me and leaps aside, and a maid takes my now soaked cloak. She takes one look at my face, gasps, and gives me a curtsey that nearly has her falling on the floor. The woman has grey hair…she has been employed in the palace long enough to remember my mother very well, and my appearance brands me as some relative of Hildyr's.

Ignoring her, I turn my head to the sound of men in armor practically running into the entrance hall. Sir Alcaster and perhaps a half dozen of his knights are walking quickly towards me, but stop when they are feet from me. "Sir Alcaster," I say, "I take it that you finally got sick enough of His Majesty's attempts at playing king to take his crown away?"

Alcaster's mouth gives a small twitch, as if he was thinking of smiling. "Princess Lucette. It's a pity your curse makes me unable to remember you."

"Indeed," I say. "But it will lift as soon as I become Tenebrarum Bearer within the week, and everyone will be reminded of me. Still, we might find some…common ground," I say carefully, as if unwilling to commit myself yet. "You believe that Angielle requires a ruler of strength? Do you think the people might appropriately fear another witch queen?"

Sir Alcaster eyes me, taking in not only my words, but my demeanor. Apparently, I pass muster, because he nods and says, "You interest me, Your Highness. I believe that we could find commonality."

"Perhaps in a longer discussion, in more comfortable surroundings," I suggest, and Sir Alcaster finally realizes that I am dripping all over the floor.

"Of course, Your Highness," he says, blinking. Possibly, he was looking so hard at my face and carriage, he failed to notice that I was wearing soaking wet clothing at least two or three stations below what is appropriate to me. He bows before me, his knights following his example. "Forgive me for keeping you from your comforts, Princess."

I leave the men behind me in the entrance hall. _Well, I think he won't light the tinder at least until after we have our…discussion._ As I walk, I hear several servants gasp, and one drops a tray as he sees me. They may have forgotten the Princess Lucette, but they remember Queen Hildyr and I am her mirror image. I even made sure that Waltz taught me to _walk_ the exact same way she did. Before I get halfway to my room, I look over to find a man in dark clothing walking beside me. But it is not Myth.

It is Varg.

I pause long enough for Varg to give me an elegant bow, and introduce himself. "Please permit me, Princess. I am Varg, assigned as your personal knight by Sir Mythros."

"Really now?" I answer coolly as I continue to walk towards my room.

"He _requests_ your presence at supper tonight, in a few hours' time," Varg continues. "He is certain you will find the dining conversation to your liking."

I enter my room and pull the bell for a maid to help me dress. Varg follows, but takes a station near the door instead of attempting to follow me into my dressing room. "Very well. I could do with some stimulating conversation, for a change."

Just then, an ashen faced maid comes running into my room, carrying an armload of warmed towels and we both disappear into my dressing room for me to dry and change clothing. I make no conversation with her, silently making my selections of clothing, and fortunately she makes no mistakes while serving me. If I am to play my role, I would have to be as harsh with the servants as my mother ever was. After hearing some of Waltz's descriptions of such events, I wonder how she ever had the stomach for that before meals.

After I finish dressing in a gauzy gown that goes down to my ankles—I cannot afford to be seen as a child and this gown is similar enough to what my mother once wore—I dismiss the frightened girl and do my own hair and makeup. I do not use the braided hairstyle I have worn for years, but wear my hair down in a style that is similar…but not identical to…my mother's. After all, I am Hildyr's daughter, but I am not Hildyr herself. Even in my new persona, we have a couple of significant differences.

As I work in front of my mirror, I address Varg who stands leaning against the wall, watching me. "So," I say, "you are what Myth replaced Fritz with?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Varg says as he lounges against the wall.

I sniff. "Do not act stupid, and do not treat me as such. It becomes neither of us."

"Princess?" he asks, inquisitive.

"We both know that I know Fritz was cursed, and I can see enough of you even through that mask to recognize that you now wear his face. You are not fooling me, and I don't see any reason to pretend that I am fooled," I tell him.

"You are the first to have noticed," Varg says, sounding almost surprised.

"After he faithfully served me for three years? Of course I know his face," I say, as if peeved that my pet dog has been replaced without my permission.

Varg remains silent while I finish, and then I allow him to escort me to the royal dining room. If I thought I terrified the servants on my way to my room, they either hide themselves or bow so low their faces are practically on the floor now. _Even in the middle of a coup…rumor travels fast, and my appearance has confirmed it._ There is no doubt among the servants now.

Either Hildyr has returned, or her daughter has just entered the palace. Either of us would inspire terror. And, in this new persona, that pleases me.

When we enter the dining room, I see a pattern that is not unfamiliar to me. My father's usual chair at the head of the table is empty, although he sits on the sides along with my stepfamily. Myth sits at the other end of the table, away from my family. As soon as he sees me, my father's eyes widen. "Hildyr!" he gasps, and tries to rise but his feet stay firmly plated where they are. "Wait…" he says, trying to study my face. He notices that I am younger than Hildyr, and I do not have her eyes…those eyes are his. "Mythros, what is the meaning of this?"

Myth rises from his seat, smiling at me. While my appearance frightened my father, Myth appears entranced for a moment before he can speak. "I simply brought back the Crown Princess Lucette. You should be thanking me, Genaro. I have reunited you with your daughter. Do you not recognize the face her mother blessed her with?"

"My daughter?" my father asks quietly, clearly suspicious of anything Myth says or does.

I give Myth a withering look. "Yes, you 'brought me back' after months of unsuccessfully trying to find me, and I walked through the gate myself. What skill you show!" I say sarcastically. I take the chair next to Rod, as that is the one that Varg is holding out for me, but I completely ignore my family. "I suspect Mother never had you find anything for her. She would have punished you had you shown this ineptitude before her."

I can hear Varg snort a laugh from behind me, and Myth's face loses some of its triumphant grin. "But Princess," he tries to assure me, "I had everyone available searching for you. It was that fairy that hid you from me!"

"You mean like those two vagabonds that attempted to accost me whilst shopping?" I ask mildly, as if his explanation and excuse has little interest to me as I serve myself from the dishes before me. "Now, really. I will assume anyone that hires street thugs instead of professionals either has no taste, is desperate enough to make stupid decisions, or else wishes to use me for…nefarious…purposes."

Myth's eyes narrow. "No one mentioned finding you," he says. "There was reward for substantiated sightings of you as well."

I shrug as if it is of no consequence. "I had their memories erased…they were stupid enough to try to grab me in front of my pet…and they were dumped in an alley with empty liquor bottles so they would merely assume they had been drunk. I thought it would look unseemly to my pet if I had suggested they should be killed. If you had wanted your ruffians to find me and me to come willingly, you should have put words in their mouths that would have made me _want_ to be found."

"Made you _want_ to be found?" Myth asks me. "Princess, what could have possessed you to hide?"

I deliberately take a bite, but turn my attention to Myth as if he has finally asked a question worth my attention. "Well," I say after swallowing. "You know I was cursed, and the effect of my curse is that everyone forgot me. This meant I was denied my rightful place in the palace, and I had to break my curse before I could return. How was I to know that anyone here remembered me or would offer me succor? After all, you had never told me that you were a witch, much less my mother's other apprentice." As I say this, I see a flash of irritation pass behind his eyes. He still hates being compared with Waltz, and the insinuation that he was his inferior…and I make a note of it.

"The Lucis Bearer's servants found me, and brought me to her. One of her witch allies admitted placing the curse on me, claiming it was merely _instructional_ ," I say, sneering the last word. "My Cinderella Curse requires that I perform three good works to break it and return to my rightful place, with a piece appearing on this necklace every time I commit one." I hold out the blank necklace where Myth can clearly see it.

"My goodness," he says, "not one good work in well over five months. Princess, I'm impressed."

I can see Rod's eyes widen in my mind's eye, but I don't dare look at him. He knows that I was getting good works—I performed one right in front of him!—but he does not give me away. My stepbrother knows that I am lying to Myth, if not to what end. If I need my family to take any particular action, he would still trust me.

"Do you have _any_ idea how difficult it is to attempt to do good works?" I ask Myth sharply. "To be surrounded by people with utterly naïve and banal ideas of conduct that want to make you the same as them? They even made me perform _chores_ to 'earn my keep!' The indignity of it all!"

I can tell Myth is struggling not to smile. "That sounds intolerable," he answers. "But why wait all that time before returning to your home? You had to know that the knights, not merely ruffians, were starting to look for you."

"I finally found the truth they were so keen to hide from me," I reply. "I found that my curse will break automatically on my birthday when I become Tenebrarum Bearer. I have no need to break it myself; I had no need of them."

"They were fools to hide that from you," Myth tells me, encouraging my anger at the fairies. "But how did you find out who I was?"

He probably knows that there was another witch snooping in the palace. He did the last time Delora was investigating. "Delora let slip that she knew there was another witch in the palace, she was afraid that it might be you, and I decided to risk returning. However, you still haven't asked me the obvious questions, Myth," I say, as if disappointed with him once more, "nor have you attempted to answer it for me."

He gives me a small frown. "You mean, 'what happens now?'"

"Exactly!" I tell him. "Obviously, you and Alcaster conspired to take the crown from an underserving man, but do you share any commonality at all as to where it should go next? Alcaster would probably want to wear it himself, but he seems to lack a worthy heir and at his age that could become a problem. Once the population remembers me, it would also be an option to install me as queen. They would fear me because they feared my mother, and that is something he could use.

"You on the other hand," I continue, "are not as easy to read. I know you were loyal to my mother while she lived, but I am not entirely sure if your loyalty was transferred to me upon her death. Do you wish to set me on the throne, and what strings are attached? What do _you_ wish to gain from this?

"I came home knowing I was fated to either my sire's throne and my mother's keep of the Tenebrarum, or I would likely be killed to keep me from them," I finish. "But then, this is how the game is played; power or death."

Myth is still for a moment, staring at me. _He recognizes that I seek power, and that my life is nothing without it. He knows I might not_ want _to give it to my mother._ "And if you had another choice, Princess?"

"To live in the service of someone else?" I say, as if surprised that he would think of such a thing. "I was not born nor groomed for servitude."

"Even to your own mother?" he asks. I hear a sharp intake of breath from my father, but I ignore him.

"She is dead, and I am not delusional enough to think otherwise," I answer, then I blink. "Don't tell me you have her corpse somewhere, and you are planning on having me raise her from the dead at the stroke of midnight by laying hands on her."

He stares at me, eyes wide before he shakes himself. "She's _not_ dead!"

"Oh, dear gods—both Order _and_ Chaos—you are planning exactly that!" I exclaim. "You are _completely_ mad! I always thought you cracked for talking to her portrait all of the time, but this…!"

I find Myth pulling me out of my chair, dragging me by my wrist, and I slap him as hard as I can with my free hand. As much practicing as I have been doing with the sword, I have hit him very hard indeed. I ignore the pain this causes my hand. "Did I give you _permission_ to touch me?" I ask, giving him my best impersonation of my mother, and he drops my wrist as if burned. I can see Varg behind Myth, his eyes glittering dangerously at his master. He did not like Myth grabbing me, either.

Myth's face is blank a moment, and then he offers me a bow, my handprint still red on his face. "I apologize, Your Highness," he says, actually sounding contrite. "I realize that this sounds…unlikely…but I have proof if you only consent to follow me."

"Very well," I say after a long moment. "You may attempt to convince me that you are _not_ insane."

I follow Myth with Varg trailing behind us as Myth opens a hidden door, and leads me into the secret chambers of the palace. Eventually we come, as I knew we would, to the chamber that houses the Tenebrarum. And the clear crystal is as beautiful as I remember, and my mother is encased by it.

"Still as beautiful as ever," Myth says, almost with a sigh.

"She is remarkably preserved," I say, as if not fully prepared to admit that she is still alive. "What lead to this?"

"It was her last effort," Myth tells me, entranced at the sight before him. "To continue to power the Tenebrarum and remain alive herself, she took refuge inside of it. It has maintained the power of the witches ever since, as well as her life.

"You, and only you," he tells me, "can open it. As you come into power on your eighteenth birthday, there will be a small window of time in which you can free your mother from her refuge and prison."

"And why would I want to do that?" I ask, and Myth turns from gazing at my mother to face me, clearly shocked.

"You _don't_ want to free your mother? After everything she has done for you?" he asks.

"I have a choice," I tell him, "of either honoring her, or honoring her teachings." I give him an almost imperceptible, small, wry smile. "I now find it impossible to do both."

"She taught you to love her, to obey her," Myth tells me. "It was always her will that you free her."

I let my eyes linger over the woman trapped in crystal. "She told me that the only affection that mattered was a mother's affection for her daughter. I suppose she told you the only affection that mattered was between master and apprentice? She was clearly lying to at least one of us, possibly both." I say, sparing a sidelong glance at Myth. His lips tighten for a moment, but I continue. "She also taught me that others would only seek to use me, that any consideration they gave me came at a cost to myself. The best I expect from anyone is to enter into mutually beneficial arrangements. I see no reason not to apply this logic to her."

"But Princess…" Myth tries to explain, but I still continue over him.

"She taught me that the only way to avoid others hurting me is if I always have the upper hand. If those that have power will attempt to use me only for their own gain, that means that I must have power of my own. I must be second to none, and always pursue more power…never to give it away. How can I honor this teaching if I return power to her?"

Myth is silent now, staring at me as if I have become something that he never expected. I turn away from the crystal to face him, my voice now soft enough that he must strain to hear every word as I demand his complete attention.

"She also taught me not to trust her…I now realize she never trusted me," I say, my voice almost a caress. "My memory has _holes_ Myth. I can only surmise that my _dear_ mother put them there, as the only things that are left are the same things that would benefit her. I was more her puppet, her doll, than I was her child. She never trusted me enough to _decide_ to trust her of my own free will. If she treated me, as her own flesh and blood, that way…how did she treat you? Forget your obsession with her for one second, and imagine you were an impartial observer looking at the interactions between master and student."

All Myth can do is stare at me for a long moment. "She was right about you, that you would eventually embrace the same corruption she did; you are fully prepared to receive it now. But for her gamble to result in this…. I believe we are done here, for now," he finally says, and we return to the dining room. None of us say a word until after we sit back down, and I resume eating as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I notice that none of my family have touched their plates, probably waiting breathlessly for me to confirm or deny Myth's assertions of my mother's survival.

"Well," I tell Myth, after having finished my main course, "at least I know that you are not completely insane." There is a sharp intake of breath from my father. I have just confirmed to him that his witch of a wife is not completely dead yet…and I doubt that the fact that he is technically a bigamist is what is currently worrying him.

"You used to love your mother," Myth comments. I can feel my father's gaze, sharply upon me even though I do not look in his direction. Myth has just implied that I am unwilling to attempt to revive Hildyr.

"Is it not love to respond to a situation in exactly the same way that she would have?" I ask. "Am I not honoring her, even as I disobey?"

I know that Myth is unlikely to have given up yet, but he almost appears amused as he asks, "And how did you turn from a compliant child into a mirror image of your mother whilst in the hand of the Lucis Bearer?"

I smirk at him. "While I enjoy the irony…and I suspect you do as well…it no doubt grieves her. She deserves that and more for trying to manipulate me. But to answer your question, I did learn to 'act good' under her care, as it was the only choice I could discern at the time. I had to bury what I truly was in exchange for what I believed that I needed, and this was unpleasant enough for what was actually myself to…distill. You see the results before you."

I see no reason to continue to converse, guessing it would be better to let what Myth has 'learned' about me to marinate in his mind for now. I do not look at my father, who is probably uncertain if I am his daughter but assured I am Hildyr's. The rest of the meal is taken in silence, and when I am finished I simply stand and allow Varg to escort me back to my room.

"You know, Princess," Varg tells me when there is no one in sight, "you appear to be more fun than Mythros was expecting to have to handle."

"Do you think he can handle me?" I ask as we walk.

"You have what he needs to get what he desires," Varg comments. "He does have the option to force you to provide him with it, as you appear to be unwilling to give him your help voluntarily."

"Or else it will become obligatory for the both of us to engage in some…creative…problem solving," I remark. "Sometimes it is necessary for two parties to give up what they most desire in exchange for a secondary resolution they can both tolerate."

"And what might that be, Princess?" Varg asks me, voice suddenly sharp. He hates Myth, even as he is forced to serve him.

"You still don't pay the attention to politics you ought," I sigh.

"The man you knew was someone else," Varg tells me. "I am a completely different person."

"No," I tell him. "You are the part of Fritz that he suppressed. The animal instinct, hunger, and ferocity that may serve a warrior well on a battlefield, but poorly during palace duties. Did you think that I never watched you fight; the way you dispatched your fellows on the practice field? Did you not recognize that I've always known that this part of you existed?"

Varg's grip on his magical staff tightens, but he gives me no other physical signs that my words have made any impact on him. Finally, he answers me. "But if you've always known…."

"That means that I accepted that part of you," I tell him as we near the door to my room. "At least, as the part of you that would viciously slay anyone trying to kill me, but would again be put into check once immediate danger had passed. But now Myth has taken your restraint, and turned you into his puppet."

Varg remains unable to look at me as I enter my room, and does not follow me inside. He cannot deny anything I have said.

Even though the hour is still relatively early, I summon another ashen-faced maid who helps me undress for bed. It is only when I am alone, crawling into my soft bed, that I allow my affected persona to melt around me, allow myself to feel my own heart that stings with the actions I have performed and the words I have uttered this day. I pull one of my pillows into my arms, missing the warmth I shared with Waltz last night.

" _Be ruthless my beautiful, blazing, shining star_ ," I hear in my mind, and it allows me the peace I need to go to sleep.

I am sure to have another busy day tomorrow.

….


	18. A Winter's Storm

**Chapter 18. A Winter's Storm**

The next morning, I put on my persona before I even get out of bed. I know that I need to be consistent, that I can make no mistakes.

I see a breakfast tray on my nightstand, and I wonder if Myth only assembles the royal family for supper, or if he simply sees no gain in doing it for breakfast this particular morning. When I have eaten and am prepared to dress, I summon another maid to help me into my gown.

When I am fully prepared, I look into the mirror and see a woman who is both beautiful and feared, and desires nothing less than her own power. And I decide that I am ready to face the world.

Varg is outside my door when I exit, but he does not attempt to stop me from leaving my room. If I had to guess, he will only intervene if I try to leave the palace. If he were to attempt to confine me, Myth knows I would become even more disagreeable and he is probably still trying to find a way to convince me.

My plan for today is to make myself available for conversation with Sir Alcaster. I know that the commander will be seeking this, and will probably be able to find me anywhere in the palace by inquiring of the servants who cannot help but track my movements as they try to stay out of my way, but I head to the library. I guess that neither Myth nor Alcaster would use it as their place of business, and they must come to me rather than have it appear that I am seeking them out.

The palace library holds shelves approximately two stories high, and there is a moveable ladder that swings around the circular room should someone wish to peruse the upper shelves. There are both desks available for those who wish to study as they read, and couches for those who prefer to lounge. Light filters through a magnificent window that manages to make the dusty atmosphere of this room almost cheery in the early morning light.

A short, balding man that I recognize as the librarian bows deeply before me, asking if I wish his assistance. I tell him to fetch me something on current law in Angielle, and settle myself into one of the large, comfortable chairs that surround a coffee table. Wordlessly, Varg takes a station standing behind me and lounges against one of the shelves, even while he scans everything around him with restless eyes.

It is mere moments before the little librarian presents me with three new volumes, bowing before me again and asking if there is anything else he may fetch me. I dismiss him, and he practically runs and hides behind his desk. I pick up one of the volumes, and begin to read.

It is not ten minutes before Alcaster enters the library, flanked two knights he leaves at the entrance. "Princess," he says, offering me a bow that is not a hair less or more than I could reasonable expect from him.

"Sir Alcaster," I reply looking up from my book, waving at the chair across from me in obvious invitation. He does not really need my invitation to sit, but it would show poor manners if he refused it. We both know that this conversation is necessary for us to sound each other out, and whomever is the initiator is the one that intends to have the upper hand. My simple gesture takes the initiative away from him.

Of course, he could choose to remain sanding and have it look as if he is attending me as Varg is. Or, he could take a different chair and make it more difficult to meet my eyes as we speak. But I have given him permission to be exactly where he wants to be.

Alcaster watches me with interest as he takes the indicated chair. "Current law Princess?" he asks, remarking on the selection of books before me.

"Yes," I say, marking my page to give him my full attention. "If or when I am crowned queen, it occurs to me that I will want to make some changes. My sire was much too…lenient." I don't even refer to the king as my father, as if I have no emotional attachments to him. He was simply the male my mother used to give me a legitimate claim to the throne.

"You are not wrong about changes being needed, Princess," Alcaster agrees with me. "The people were much more productive, Angielle stronger, when your mother reigned as queen."

"I do not doubt that. What does concern me is how you intend to remedy that," I tell the commander.

"Princess?" Alcaster asks me.

"You obviously have the choice of installing me as queen once my curse breaks as I turn eighteen," I tell him, "or of killing me now before I gain my magical powers and am able to stop you." I throw a glance Varg's way. "Or at least, I assume that is why Mythros has his hound following me. He, at least, wants me alive for the moment…and this is a hound with the teeth to kill you should it become necessary."

"You are unusually frank about asking me if I want you dead or not," Alcaster tells me, dryly.

"I find that being direct saves time," I tell him. Somehow, I am certain that Myth is listening to our entire conversation. "Mythros may like to dance around subjects and hint at what he wants, but I am sure that as a military man you would prefer issues to be addressed directly. As long as you were plotting against my sire, I am certain that you chafe under unnecessary secrecy if only for the fatigue of it."

"You…are not wrong," he admits. "We had a common goal in removing the king from power, but what Mythros hopes to gain other than his own life still escapes me. My only certainty on that subject is that it involves you, Princess."

"I am certain that either of you would betray and murder the other over a bucket of dog drool," I tell him, and I hear Varg chuckling from behind me. "It would not be difficult for Mythros to summon other witches and destroy you and the forces you control. It would also be equally easy for me to imagine you simply running Mythros through with your sword. As I see it, the only way one of those two things will _not_ happen is if you two manage to come up with goals that do not conflict."

"And what goal do _you_ think Mythros hopes to achieve, Princess?" the commander asks me.

I seriously doubt that Myth has told Alcaster that he intends to raise my mother from the 'dead.' However, there is another option he would believe…and it is one that should be subtly presented to Myth if he has not thought of it himself yet.

"If I had to guess," I answer, "I would say that Mythros intends to be my prince consort." _Ok, so that was…less than subtle_. I can hear grating behind me, and assume Varg is grinding his staff into the floor. This idea does not please him, but he can say nothing at this time.

Sir Alcaster, on the other hand, actually relaxes a little. "And would you be opposed to that arrangement, Princess?" It is an arrangement that does not directly conflict with his goals; it is an arrangement in which all three of us could have our spheres of power.

I shrug my shoulders. "It is one that would make sense," I answer. "While I will gain brute power when I turn eighteen, the knowledge for its use does not come with it. I will require an instructor, and preferably one as close to my caliber as possible. My mother's apprentice would seem an appropriate choice." I frown slightly. "There is also the matter that I am a half-blood, and it would do my bloodline benefit were I to take more magic into it. The concern of providing my own heir is not an immediate one at my age, but it is still an important matter."

Alcaster raises an eyebrow, looking at me with the same gaze I found fearsome only months before…years before. "Mythros was once your mother's apprentice?"

"He never told you?" I ask. "She actually had two. Mythros you are familiar with, and another named Waltz Cresswell. Quite frankly, I could use either of them for what I require. Cresswell appears as obsessed with me as Mythros ever was with my mother, but is so 'good' he would require constant manipulation to get what I would need from him…or else a lot of work. I know that my mother attempted to corrupt him and failed, but that does not mean that I could not triumph where she was unsuccessful. It would be troublesome…but necessary if something happened to Mythros, or if Mythros himself decides on another route."

I think I see air fold out of the corner of my eye to the right of Alcaster, and I realize where Myth is hiding, folding air to make himself invisible. He must have been startled enough to move and make the air ripple. After all, I have just implied that his rival is currently without his curse, obsessed with me, and quite possibly lethal to him. As competitive as I know Myth is, I have just given him motivation to prove to me that procuring his own services would benefit me more than troubling with Waltz.

And I have put another nail in my mother's coffin. If I decided to help Waltz kill Myth if Myth decided to risk it all to free my mother instead of settling for me…he might have nothing at all. No praise from my mother for helping her out of the crystal as she allows him to stand at her side, nor would I give him what he had always wished of her.

I ignore that I have spotted Myth, and instead focus in Alcaster. "You do not fear that this Cresswell would not recognize you for what you are too soon?" he asks me.

"Not as long as I can come up with a suitable explanation, no," I tell the commander. "For example, he would believe that I took…questionable actions…if I could convince him that they were done with the motive of keeping my sire, the cow he married, and her whelps alive."

"So you intend them to be alive?" Alcaster asks.

"For the moment," I reply. "At the very least until the inevitable confrontation between my mother's apprentices comes to a head. I can also think of a few other, practical uses for them…political uses. For example, the cow's children now have sufficient station to make themselves useful for marriages of state. This potential for use will continue so long as my sire is not publically 'dispossessed.' As far as my sire is concerned, the simplest thing would be for him to announce that he is dying of an illness, and his daughter is to be crowned in his stead. It could minimize public unrest, as opposed to someone announcing that they took the crown by force."

"Indeed it could," Alcaster admits slowly. I can tell that he would rather just kill the rest of the royal family, but he recognizes the potential costs of stamping down public unrest. And I require them alive for my own current plans. "You interest me greatly, Princess," he says as he rises from his chair.

"Why don't you put a list together of the laws you would think it would be beneficial to change?" I ask him, but it is more of an order than a request. "We could go over them sometime tomorrow."

"That…sounds like a good idea, Your Highness," he tells me. "Consider it done."

He probably has the list in his back pocket, or lying on his desk now that he has no fear of the king discovering his plans for the coup.

"Sir Alcaster," I say, stopping him as he is about to leave, my gaze as hard as his ever was. "Do not expect me to agree with everything you say. Anyone that does is either lying to you, or has no mind of their own. I wouldn't wish you to mistake me for either."

Alcaster's lips twitches again as if he was thinking of smiling. "As you say, Your Highness." He gives me my title automatically, as if he never mistook me for anything else. And I know that I have nearly convinced him. And it is time to show him that I trust him…or at least, that I trust him more than I do Myth.

"Oh, one final thing," I tell him. "If you cannot find me twice a day, assume that Mythros has decided to be difficult and kill him. I have no use for him if he decides to attempt to control me."

I hear Varg actually laughing behind me, and even Sir Alcaster smiles. "That would be my pleasure, Princess." And I know he is not lying…he would love to kill Myth.

I watch Alcaster gather his knights at the door, and leave. He believes that I will listen to him, but will not tolerate being his puppet even if it would be to save my life. From my request, he knows that I do not intend to be Myth's puppet either. He believes that I actually intend to rule Angielle.

And this pleases him. After all, I know that he wants to work with me. He wants me to rule Angielle with grace, beauty, and fear.

And I intend to make him believe I will do exactly that.

…

I spend the rest of the morning and afternoon in the library, actually reading. I am sure Varg will notice if I stare too long at a page, and wonder what else I could be doing. I only leave to take luncheon on a terrace close to the library. One of Alcaster's knights stands in Varg's place, while I assume Varg has gone to attend to his own needs. Apparently, Varg has decided that Alcaster will not order me harmed if he is leaving me in the other man's care. However, that does not stop him from tasting my food before he leaves.

Now relatively alone and eating my lunch, I consider supper tonight, assuming I am eating with my family again, and what options Myth believes he has left.

He believes that I wish the crown for myself, and will not willing surrender it to my mother. If he attempts physical force, or even if he looks like he intends to…he knows that I might tell Alcaster to kill him. And Alcaster would only be too pleased to oblige. He would have to call on other witches to help him destroy Alcaster, which could be done but this would be risky if I placed myself under Alcaster's protection. After all, if I were to accidently die in such a fight all would be lost anyway.

No, he will use force as a last resort, and I have just made it harder by telling Alcaster to find me twice a day and to kill Myth if he is unable to do so. As I have not specified the times, this 'finding' could occur anytime of the day or night. It forces Alcaster to keep an eye on me, making it harder for Myth to take me from the commander's grasp.

His only current option is to convince me to free my mother, to offer me something that I want in exchange for my cooperation, or else to take something away from me. He will not attempt to harm my person, and I have taken care to imply that I have no affection for anything or anyone else. But…that might not stop him from trying to control my actions by threatening my family anyway.

I will simply have to use supper tonight to reveal how much I 'despise' them…that they are not weapons that he can use against me. And, since I am actually trying to protect them, it might be my hardest challenge yet.

 _Ice Princess? I will have to be the winter storm that freezes all in its path._

….

I find that I am actually looking forward to this challenge, and for a moment that terrifies me before I remind myself that what I do is necessary. I can and will wound to heal, and I will not acknowledge my own stinging heart until I crawl into my bed again tonight.

Sir Alcaster personally greets me on my way to dinner, to ensure himself that killing Myth is not yet necessary. When I finally arrive, the setup is exactly as it was last night, the only difference being that fear is even more palpable in the dining room than it was last night. My family, with perhaps the exception of Rod, accepts me for who I appear to be and they fear me for it. To them, my only redemptive quality is that I do not wish to release my mother who apparently has been in some magical coma for the last four years. My father and Ophelia sit on one side of the table, with Emelaigne and Rod at the other and Myth at the end. Wordlessly, I take the chair beside Rod that Varg pulls out for me.

As soon as I start into my food, Myth chuckles. "Princess, you are even more of a handful than I anticipated. I leave you alone for a few minutes, and you start suggesting to Sir Alcaster that he kill me."

"The request was provisional," I say, not bothering to deny it or act surprised that Myth has found this out. "If I had not thought you potentially dangerous, I would not have suggested killing you. You should be flattered."

"You _are_ a terrifying creature, aren't you?" Myth asks, sounding amused.

I shrug. "You are not the first person to have told me this." But the stakes are much higher now than if there is new mud on the floor I have just swept.

"Very well, if you wish to be frank I shall be frank," Myth tells me. "How would you respond if I threatened the life of any or all of the people sitting at this table should you not accede to my will?"

 _How 'frank' is this? He is couching a threat as a request, or a request as a threat._

"Fine. Let's assume for the purpose of theoretical discussion that you have actually done so," I begin. "Let's see…I would respond by saying, 'So, you threaten that if I don't give away power that is rightfully mine, you will provide me with an _inconvenience?_ Seriously, do you think that I am my mother's daughter, or not?' They are mere tools and currency."

"Princess, I was only…," Myth tries to say, but I override him.

"The only reason I am considering keeping them alive is for their uses," I tell him. "Let's begin with _dear_ Father over here, my only blood family," I practically spit, and my father looks at me warily knowing that nothing pleasant is about to come forth. "Why should I show him _consideration_ when he ignored me after Mother's 'death' when I needed him the most? Why would I show him loyalty when he was more attentive to the children of another man than his own daughter? His only current use would be to publically give me his crown to avoid civic unrest, and perhaps to help with administrative details I will not have time for while undergoing my magical education. He lives today because he kept his head down and did as he was told under Mother, and I have no reason to believe that he would do otherwise now with the proper motivation…and we even have 'motivation' conveniently sitting right beside him."

I point at Ophelia who appears white as a sheet. "She is totally inconsequential except as a goad to use on the king—does not even have noble blood—and remains useful only as long as he does. In short they both remain only 'tools.' The throne could still be mine without their use, but I might have to put out a few fires if anyone consequential decides that I killed them myself for my throne."

Then, I jerk my thumb toward Emelaigne and Rod. "And now we get to the currency." They heard my words concerning their parents. I can see from sitting next to Rod that his hands are in fists on his lap, knuckles white, as he stares at his plate. He at least recognizes that I will have to be viscous indeed to keep them all alive, to prove that they are not weapons Myth can use against me…if he still believes that I will keep the word I gave him all those months ago, and that I reaffirmed only days ago. But I am sure he still believes…he has no other hope…and he now knows what I mean when I use the word 'unconventional.' And poor Emelaigne cannot hide behind her smile today. I do not allow myself to consider her feelings as I consider her life.

"Assuming this coup is kept quiet, either or both of them could be appropriate for marriages of the state. A queen must still deal with other nations, and even an appearance of an alliance can be useful. However, they both need work before that could be possible," I start.

"Unless Emelaigne has been paying more attention to her lessons since I left, she still isn't competent among the nobility. She can't dance, she forgets to hold out her pinkie finger when taking tea, she even has trouble with something as simple a formal place setting," I sneer, and Emelaigne whimpers at my words. Apparently, I am still correct. "At least tutors and better motivation may fix that problem. Her brother, who can now pass for nobility himself even if she cannot, actually has a more serious problem. No tutor can fix _dead_."

"If you are threatening Rod…" my father tries to say, but I interrupt him.

"It's nothing _I've_ done," I say. "It's what he has done to _himself_ , you fool." Rod now has his eyes squeezed shut, knowing what I am about to reveal, and he does not want to see his family's faces when they find out. I just hope he remembers why this is necessary. "Did you never wonder why you couldn't find his mother for three years? And all of a sudden, you just walked into her house one day? Did neither of you make the connection between that, and the day Rod became mute? He made himself a prince, at the cost of his voice, in a last ditch attempt to be able to compete for the hand of a girl he was 'in love' with," I say, and Emelaigne gasps, realizing the truth. Her mother takes one look at her children, eyes widening as the truth dawns on her as well. But I spell it out anyway. "Did he tell you his Mermaid Curse is _exactly_ like the one in the story, that he would die if he did not win the love of the girl that is now engaged to another man? That his last chance of breaking the curse on his own would be to slay the girl on her wedding night, or else he would die? If he told you differently…he lied."

"Rod…"my father says, sounding hoarse. "Rod, is this the truth?"

I notice that Sebby is not on Rod's shoulder. He has probably taken the precaution of leaving the bunny in his room where he will reveal nothing by accident…leaving him completely mute. Still, Rod opens his eyes open to look at my father, and nods, and my father sinks into his chair in defeat. He is helpless…hopeless in the face of this problem. Even should a miracle occur that would restore him his crown, there is nothing he can do. Well, except forbid the marriage I guess, but that probably wouldn't seem a 'good' way to fix this problem.

I tisk. "Still the fool, aren't you? Never realizing that, assuming Rod is unwilling to kill anyone, his final way out would be to ask the Tenebrarum Bearer to dispel his curse?" I draw every eye at the table. They know that I am the next Tenebrarum Bearer. "Of course, if the wedding is before I turn eighteen, this discussion is merely academic."

"Please, Your Highness," Ophelia tries to beg me, "if you have any mercy…."

"I have none," I say, cutting her off. "If I choose to dispel his, or any other, curse…it will be merely a business arrangement. There will be terms and conditions."

"Then we have no choice," my father sadly admits. "Assuming you will take no other life in his stead, you will have our cooperation in anything you ask of us…all of us…in exchange for dispelling his curse…Your Highness." I painfully note that my own father cannot find it within himself to call me by my name, or else assumes the familiarity of doing so could bring my wrath. I cannot afford to dwell on how often I may have hurt him by calling him 'Your Majesty' instead of 'Father,' but this seems an appropriate punishment for my doing so.

"Finally, you are making sense," I tell him somewhat sarcastically. "Assuming his deadline is after my next birthday, it is agreed."

My family seems to relax slightly, but Myth laughs from the end of the table. "Princess, I would think you would negotiate better terms than simply having them do things that Alcaster or I could have gotten them to perform."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "We all know that they are puppets; I simply want to be the one that pulls the strings. I have told you, I am unwilling to be a puppet myself."

And Myth looks back between me and my family, who is still clearly terrified of me. A look crosses his eyes, and I guess he has made a decision as to whether or not he can use them as weapons against me.

Puppets make poor weapons.

"And if I tried to kill them all anyway?" he asks, in one last attempt.

"Then I would call _you_ a fool," I tell him. "There is something important that you are clearly ignoring."

"And what, pray, is that Princess?" he asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Have you ever," I say, starting out small, "played a game with a child who was losing the game, and the child decided that rather than to loose they would just upset the game board?"

Myth nods, and I assume that he had done exactly that as a child himself. It sounds like him.

"The Lucis Bearer has this option herself, should things appear direr than she would accept," I explain.

" _What!_ " Myth exclaims.

"She has no heir," I explain, "and has suffered enough damage that much more will kill her. She will not survive another Great War, perhaps not even one more battle, and she knows it. I could be more powerful than she in a matter of months, and she would not be able to stand against me. If it appears certain that you, Mother, or I will do anything to incite such a War, she might decide to destroy the Lucis…which would also destroy the Tenebrarum, and magic itself…not to mention the both of us. As soon as I turn eighteen, she holds my life in her hands…and to take it she merely needs to give her own."

For perhaps the first time, Myth appears genuinely shocked. "But she wouldn't…."

"Never underestimate the sacrifices 'good' people are willing to make," I tell him. "Actually, they are so self-sacrificial they are rather predictable. The better they consider themselves, the more they are willing to give up. Power, fortune, their very lives…they will put it all on their alter of morality."

And I know that I have finally given him a convincing reason not to force me to release my mother. There would be certain war were she released, and Parfait might choose to end the powers of both the fairies and the witches to stop her…and Mother would die just the same as if she were never released at all. I have seen Parfait do this before, and Myth can tell that I am not guessing when I predict her actions.

"And you think you could rule Angielle without inciting such a war?" he asks me.

"I might want an entire pie, but if I have a choice of between sharing it or having no pie at all…and being dead…I am capable of sharing," I tell him. "It the coup remains silent, and the royal family alive, there will not be riots that could lead to war. As for ruling itself, I believe myself capable of using an iron hand and a velvet glove. I may have to forbid my witches from certain Curses, spoiling some fun but so long as I appear to be curbing their excesses I do not believe that war will be inevitable.

"What are you willing to risk on the chance that I am wrong, Myth?" I ask quietly, as serious as death.

He stares at me for a long minute, and sighs. He knows that he must rearrange his goals. Which means his best option would be to….

"Would you consider marrying me, Princess?" he asks. Behind me, where Varg is standing, I think I hear something crack.

"This is quite a turn for a conversation that started out with you commenting on that I had potentially told someone to kill you," I say. "But yes, I am willing to consider such an arrangement. It could be…pragmatic."

I do not look toward my family, especially not my father, as I say this.

This night, when I return to bed, not only do I hug a pillow as I bed down but I hide myself entirely under the covers and allow myself silent tears. I have had nothing but success today…but I have never felt more awful in my life. I allow myself to process things my brain catalogued, but I was unable to deal with while in my role. Emelaigne's gasp as she realized the truth of her brother's Curse. Rod, his knuckles white and eyes squeezed shut as I exposed the secret he had been hiding from his family to avoid causing them pain. Ophelia, as she attempted to beg me to spare the life of her only son. My father…slumped in his chair, hopeless, helpless, certain that under my rule he would again face things he had escaped with my mother's defeat.

He has to be trying to figure out what he did wrong in raising me, blaming himself as his mind imagines what he cannot remember due to my curse. Even if I did save Rod's life, I was certain to sell both him and Emelaigne into marriages with no regard for their happiness. He himself would be forced to act 'ill' and convalesce while his corrupted daughter and the two men that had betrayed him would rule his nation in his stead. His only comfort would be his wife, but she would be effectively sharing an opulent prison cell with him…and that was never the life he had intended to give to her.

Given these things, I cannot help but weep.

….

 _Author's note:_

 _To Demetria0620, I do not have this out on any other websites, but you could always create another account and follow me here! Actually…several people have told me that they have done exactly that. It's quite flattering. :)_


	19. Just Because I Might Decide to Kill You

**Chapter 19. Just Because I Might Decide to Kill You…**

"That's an easy one," I tell Alcaster the next day in the library.

He has laid out lists and charts for my perusal on one of the desks. I sit there, with him looking over my shoulder as he explains what he believes should and should not be done. With him so close to me, he gave a brief start at seeing the palms of my hands right after we started. I guess that he recognized callouses that were developing there from my sword practice. He is a veteran that would know them on sight, but he says nothing about it.

Perhaps he doesn't want to potentially warn Myth just in case I decide to stab him myself. If so, I appreciate the sentiment, as that actually is my 'plan B.' Plan C involves simply hoping that if everything goes to hell in a handbasket, that I'll wake up and find Delora on my shelf again.

"To keep the populace from killing witches, simply announce that the death of other witches was what corrupted Hildyr, because as Tenebrarum Bearer she could feel each death herself. For this reason, anyone that kills a witch shall be executed for attempting to 'corrupt the queen,'" I say.

"That does make excellent sense, Princess," Alcaster says, jotting my idea down. "It sounds like something anyone could believe."

I do not tell him that as opposed to a believable lie, that it is simply the naked truth.

We have been here for hours, and it is nearly time for lunch. Yet, I consider this session important enough that I will not ask for a lunch break prematurely. We are covering a lot of ground, and I am actually mildly enjoying learning about Angielleian Law. My father made many changes after the end of the Great War, and Sir Alcaster seems quite intent on changing most of the laws back to their war-time status.

Absently, I noted Varg moving from his place next to the bookshelf to stand closer to me, and it occurs to me to wonder why. He never moves unless a suspicious movement has garnered his attention, or it is time to leave. And it is not time to leave.

I catch a flicker of movement near the door out of the corner of my eye. Alcaster's two knights are not stationed by the door as they were yesterday…and now it occurs to me to wonder why. Was yesterday an exception, or is that exception occurring today? Is there something or someone that Alcaster _wants_ to get in the door that the knights might otherwise prevent? Is he planning a production of some sort for me?

I don't have time to wonder any further when a man dressed as a butler jumps from behind the nearby couch with a dagger in his hand, opposite of Alcaster but near enough to Varg that my black knight has the would-be assassin disarmed and unconscious on the floor before I would have had the time to scream.

Slowly, I get up from my chair to get a better look at the man Varg has just attacked. He is lying on his belly while Varg still has one knee on his back as he holds his hands. The assassins face is turned to one side, showing a rugged look uncommon to palace staff, and I guess he is about ten or fifteen years older than my father. This was no butler that tried to attack me. For there to have been the lack of guards at the door, for Varg to start moving before I had seen anything, for anyone to have been stupid enough to attack me whilst I was in the company of arguably the two best blades in Angielle…this was staged.

"It was my pleasure, Your Highness," Varg tells me, even though I have only given him a nod.

"And, what would you have me do with the man that just tried to take your life, Princess?" Sir Alcaster asks me, coming around so he can see my face. He is watching me carefully. Too carefully.

 _What would Mother do?_

And I know the answer. "Myth!" I call out. "I know you are watching. Show yourself this _instant_."

The air in the corner folds, and Myth comes out and stands besides Sir Alcaster. I fold my arms beneath my breasts, and eye the two of them as if I am a mother returning home to find a vase smashed, and my two young boys playing in the house with a ball. "So, which of you is responsible for this?"

"My Princess," Myth says, "surely you are not implying that one of _us_ just tried to have you killed."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Of course you didn't. One, or perhaps both, of you sent this 'assassin' after me…but you did not intend me to be killed. This was obviously staged. You just wanted to see my reaction. Now, which of you is responsible?"

The two men exchange wary glances, and I sigh even though I am secretly happy. If they are working together again, there may not be a blood bath before my allies can take them both out. "Both of you then," I say. "You wanted to test my demeanor, and then either spellbound _that_ ," I say, pointing to the man Varg still holds on the floor, "or else found someone who legitimately wants to kill me and allowed him access to me. Either way, he is a person of no consequence as you would not risk someone that was in this display."

I guess that my assassin was among the cursed without connection to Parfait to be able to remember me _and_ want to kill me if he was acting of his own will. And I also know that Myth is capable of making someone stab another with the use of a spell. Either way, this man was the victim of a witch…and while I might be able to get away with indifference, I cannot afford pity.

"We felt it necessary to test your ruthlessness, Princess," Sir Alcaster finally admits. "If you showed an assassin mercy of any sort, you would be unfit to rule in your mother's stead."

"And totally deprived of any political acumen whatsoever if I could not tell a real assassination attempt from a fake one?" I ask dryly.

"Forgive the insult, Princess," Sir Alcaster says, his head bowed. "It was not intended."

"At least _you_ have some excuse, since I never told you the specifics of my curse," I tell the commander, who now looks somewhat relieved at that statement, and then turn to face the man beside him, "but you disappoint me, Myth."

"Princess?" he asks me, actually sounding genuinely worried.

I pull my necklace out so he can again clearly see that it is missing its entire piece. "Like I told you, I have the Cinderella curse. In order to break it, I need to perform three 'good' works, and if they are performed, pieces will appear on this necklace. Before I found that it would break automatically upon my next birthday, I tried but failed to perform _any_ good works despite the motivation I had to return to a life of ease and eventual power in the palace. I am simply incapable of 'good' even when I have motivation to try. This test was unnecessary, and I am disappointed that you never noticed."

Myth bows before me. "Forgive me Princess, that was not my intent," he tries to explain. "I never had any doubt of your exemplary personal characteristics. However, Sir Alcaster forgot all about you due to your curse, and I thought it best if you proved yourself in front of him."

"And by noticing that the attempt was fake I have now proved myself in front of you as well?" I ask dryly.

Myth is actually smiling as he comes out of his bow. "Your mother would have noticed that the attempt was contrived, too."

"So, Your Highness," Varg says, as if bored with holding the unconscious intruder captive on the floor. "What _do_ you want to do with him?"

I wave him away, indifferently. "Something that doesn't involve getting blood on my dress. It is nearly time for lunch, and I would rather not upset my appetite."

"Your mother was not so delicate," Myth does admit after Alcaster leaves with the 'assassin' in tow, and the terrified librarian has been dismissed, effectively leaving the two of us alone.

Well, Varg is at the door, guarding the entrance, but Varg is always wherever I am. I am starting to wonder if the man sleeps.

"At the age of seventeen?" I ask.

Myth blinks. "Of course, Your Highness. She may have been at that time…I do not know. But you will be eighteen in just a few days. You are very nearly a woman yourself."

"And your point?" I ask, knowing where this is going.

"Have you given any thought to the offer I made last night?" he asks, coming quite close to me.

"I assume you mean the one in which you asked me to consider marriage to you?" I ask.

"Yes," Myth tells me. "That offer."

"I'm afraid you will have to be more clear," I tell him. "Exactly what are you offering me, and in exchange for what?"

"When you turn eighteen, and your curse dissipates, we will wed," Myth starts. "We will have your father announce that he has a fatal disease, and that you have agreed to wed his trusted advisor to…ease your ability to rule in your father's stead. In practice while I will not make decisions for you, I expect you to give all of my advice serious consideration. I will teach you everything I know about magic, and will work to make you able to both defend yourself and attack your enemies as soon as possible. I will also sire as many or as few heirs upon you as you wish at a time of your determination, but I would enjoy the privilege of sharing your bed on a regular basis. I cannot deny that I find you beautiful…you are as perfect in face and form as your mother ever was, and you will soon ripen to become her equal.

"Do you agree to this offer…Lucette?" he asks me.

My heart thumps in my chest, and I am _furious_ that after all these times through around and around, my first formal proposal is from Myth of all people! Waltz wanted to, but we both knew that I couldn't accept at the time. But this is exactly what I wanted of Myth, and I cannot agree to it in a way that binds me.

"And my mother?" I ask. "Have you decided to let her go in exchange for me?"

"It is with a heavy heart," he says, sounding truthful but for some reason I am sure that there is something he is not telling me. "But yes, in exchange for your hand in marriage I will put her aside."

"Then…" I say carefully, "in exchange for my not being coerced in any way to release my mother, I agree to marry her apprentice, assuming he still lives, within the hour I turn eighteen."

Myth gives me a smile and says, "I agree to that," before his smile abruptly leaves his face. "Wait…" he tells me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That could apply to either myself, or Cresswell. You seem certain that he would not refuse your hand."

"There's still the chance he will show up and try to kill you," I explain. "There is even the chance that you may kill each other—neither of you surviving. That is why I said 'assuming he still lives.' I have to leave myself an out, should you two destroy each other."

"And you wish to marry on your eighteenth birthday…in just a few days? At night?" he asks, surprised. "My, you _are_ an impatient one."

"Do you have an objection?" I ask. "I was thinking we could have the wedding at midnight. If the crown princess does it, late night weddings might become fashionable."

"And you know that it is during the same exact time period that your mother will dissolve in the Tenebrarum if she is not freed. Lucette my dear…I am beginning to feel that you do not trust me, and after I have even given my word," he says, sounding hurt.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "It is always possible some other hand than yours may attempt to force my own hand," I tell him. "If I am expected at my own wedding, this gets _so_ much harder to accomplish." And then it occurs to me to wonder how he knows that _I_ know that this is when Mother will die if she is not released. After all, he had only mentioned that that was when my mother _could_ be released, and not what would happen to her if I refused to do so.

Either he has forgotten that he did not mention the potential for her death, or he might know of the cycling. And that brings up possibilities that I do not have time to consider right now. Perhaps he is only forgetful….

Beside the door, still listening to us, Varg snorts in amusement at my comment. But still, I can tell from his posture that he is _very_ unhappy.

"Well," I say, as if preparing to leave. "There is work to be done. You have to trot the king out to announce a wedding between yourself and the crown princess. If it is announced that way, everyone will assume he means Emelaigne until they remember me at midnight. I will need to be fitted for a wedding dress, and invitations will need to be sent to the nobles of the realm close enough to get here before the wedding is to take place."

"Nobles?" Myth asks.

"Of course," I say. "You don't honestly expect me to invite commoners. And their presence will lend…legitimacy…to the marriage. After all, it is not uncommon for weddings to take place in haste for…other reasons."

"I could see where we might want to avoid that appearance," Myth admits. A hasty marriage might take place if it were forced. If the wedding takes place in 'public' fewer people will assume that any of us are acting against our will. The coup will remain silent. Hasty marriages also take place in the case of a pregnant bride…which could spread rumors that the next heir to the throne was illegitimate if a baby arrived too soon.

But, most importantly to me, the wedding itself will provide opportunity for Parfait and her people to infiltrate the palace. This is of import because they no longer have a key to get in through the secret passages, since Rod still has it. One of our ideas to get them into the palace was for me to organize an event large enough to need supplies and guests. But if not…if the wedding does occur without interruption…there is still the knife Parfait left for me months ago after my first practice with the knights. I still have it strapped to my thigh, and I can at least kill Myth. In theory, after midnight I could use magic to kill him, but I only know one offensive spell, and I think that Myth would probably notice me using magic more than he might that dagger. It would be easier for him to defend himself against a weapon he can see than one he might overlook.

Alcaster would not care if I killed Myth, and that would leave Parfait the least dangerous of our two enemies to deal with. It's a pity that I cannot use magic to harm humans, or I might use the lightning to kill Alcaster myself if that became necessary.

"And someone will have to get refreshments and a suitable venue set up," I say, considering necessary arrangements as if I had not just been pondering killing my groom as soon as the two of us were alone and he was distracted. "Perhaps the throne room for the ceremony, and the ballroom for refreshments?"

He smiles at me. "There is no need for you to trouble yourself with trifles. Just go get fitted for your dress. Perhaps I will give your stepmother a monitor, and have her see to food and decorations while your father sees to the announcement and invitations. Those will be suitable tasks for them, and if you wish to continue to keep this coup silent it would be good to have them…actively participating."

"Very well," I say, making a note to make sure that the palace does appear to be hurriedly preparing for the wedding by tonight.

"One last thing," Myth asks me. "To seal our agreement, might you favor me with a kiss?"

Well, I know I can't really refuse it without arousing suspicion, and a kiss is such a small thing. "Yes," I say, "but _do_ try to make me enjoy it."

I do not pull back as he takes me in his arms, and kisses me. He is hungry…passionate…but sloppy. "Did that please you?" he asks when he pulls away from my face but still holding me in his arms.

I shrug my shoulders slightly. "I've had better," I answer. If he knows that he has competition, it will make him work harder to please me, and that might distract him. And being distracted can make one dead.

Myth's mouth drops open. "From that ungrateful bastard who betrayed your mother to the fairies?" he says, as if he can't quite believe either that I kissed Waltz, or that Waltz was better at something than he. But he guesses Waltz immediately, because I have hinted that his rival would not refuse an offer of marriage from me, that Waltz is obsessed with me. He might even have guessed that I was referencing Waltz when I used the word 'pet' in our earliest mealtime conversation.

"Well, yes," I answer, and Myth's eyes widen in horror. "There was also that Brugantian prince…he was quite the ladies' man, once, and pretty enough to keep my attention—when he dressed as a man, anyway. I half think that fairy encouraged them simply because 'true love' might have managed to melt my icy heart…but even if not, it was still a fun game." I pretend to just notice his horror. "Really now, with so little entertainment available at the Marchen, what did you expect me to do to amuse myself?"

Myth's smile now seems forced. "Read?"

Behind us, Varg snorts. "You honestly think other men would leave a beauty like her alone long enough for that?" he asks, wryly. And Myth has no answer for him.

It is only later when Varg and I are alone, in my room waiting for the palace seamstress to finish getting her samples together so I can choose material and style for my wedding dress, that he addresses his concern. "Princess," he asks, "just how much of what you told Myth was the truth?"

"About kissing?" I ask, reclining on the couch in my room.

"…Yes," he answers.

"I was lying about kissing Klaude," I say, as if it is of no importance. "Sometimes it's pleasant to mess with Myth's head a bit."

"I cannot disagree with you there," he says, and then pauses. "And the other man? The one he calls the ungrateful bastard…Cresswell?"

I raise an eyebrow. "As for bastard, he was only parentless because Mother killed his parents for refusing to give him to her as apprentice. That may not have been wise of them, as she took Waltz anyway. That may not have been wise of her, because it gave him motivation to betray her once he discovered the truth and placed him close enough to cause real damage. I will leave the kissing up to your imagination, but he has shown as much loyalty to me as Fritz ever did."

Varg's lips tighten for a moment. "And, in comparison, what loyalty do you expect _me_ to show you, Princess?"

"You are a puppet," I answer him. "By definition, you are incapable of loyalty so long as Myth controls your strings. You will have to break them before I can form any other opinion of you."

"And your impending marriage to the insane witch?" he asks me, even more stiffly.

"A business arrangement," I answer.

Varg returns to his stony silence, there against the wall. He seems more stiff than usual when he finally leaves my room to give the seamstress privacy to measure me. When she does show me my choices, I make my selections for my dress based more off what I will be able to run in rather than acknowledging the current fashions. Long trains in wedding dresses may be considered fashionable now, but they are difficult to move quickly in. Fashion is irrelevant to me because whatever the crown princess wears to her wedding is fashionable, simple because it is she who wears it. For the next year, other brides will probably be copying my dress even if I were to wear a flour sack…assuming the cycling finally stops.

That afternoon, looking through the library window, I see my father, Myth, and Alcaster ride out with an accompaniment of knights. My wedding is being announced to the public, and I can only imagine how restless Waltz is getting. Annice and Rumple may have to sedate him so he can sleep tonight.

This evening, at supper, Varg pulls out the chair at the head of the table for me, the one that my father use to occupy. I take it as if it was always mine to begin with.

…..


	20. …Doesn't Mean I Won't Marry You

**Chapter 20 …Doesn't Mean I Won't Marry You**

If the palace had been a tomb of fear previously, it is a frantic whirlwind today. Large events like a royal wedding typically take weeks or months to appropriately plan, and the palace staff have less than a day and a half between the announcement and the wedding. Fortunately, a ball for Emelaigne had been in the works so a lot of goods meant for decoration could simply be reappropriated, leaving mostly only foodstuff to be ordered and prepared. Unused rooms need to be refreshed for nobles that wish to stay in the palace after the wedding due to the late hour, and the throne room needs to be set up with benches kept long in storage for formal events such as coronations.

There is so much work to do, guards and even knights are pressed into service for carrying things, potentially lessening security, which is fine with me. Myth appears to be taking no additional precautions. After all, he is probably expecting Waltz by himself to pop up out of nowhere to kill him if anything…as opposed to a full-fledged counter coup. He knows Waltz can teleport, and any precautions he could take would be magical instead of physical. But my allies are arriving by physical means that do not involve the secret passages where he would be sure to guard. I am pretty sure I saw Jurien in a dress with her hair dyed black among the seamstresses called from outside the palace to get my dress done on time, but I do not attempt to meet her eyes. She is still probably angry with me for sneaking away from her…quite possibly angry for being stuffed into a dress as well…and it is best if I show her no recognition anyway.

I never knew Jurien could sew, and it occurs to me that she may have her sword hidden in a bolt of cloth.

My father is in his study, signing personal invitations from the king to the nobles within the city today, as the ones meant for nobles within a half of a day's ride were sent last night to give them time to arrive. Ophelia is overseeing decoration of the ball room while speaking to the head chef. Both of them are under guard, and move mechanically, but give no obvious signs that they are doing anything that is against their will because they have agreed to _my_ will.

If I had to take a guess, they take some solace in that because Lord Decimond is on the guest list, he will have to delay his own wedding to attend mine. No one may upstage royalty, and this will buy me a little time to dispel Rod's curse.

Myth talks to me only briefly in the hall, and that is simply to tell me to make whatever arrangements I like in his stead as he will be 'busy' this afternoon. When I inquire, he simply says that he has to tell someone precious goodbye. I assume this means that he intends to spend this time talking to my mother within the Tenebrarum rather than her portrait in the hall. From behind him, Varg is spinning a finger in a circle beside his ear, mouthing 'crazy.'

I manage to keep a straight face anyway. Mother is no more likely to hear Myth talk to her from the Tenebrarum than from that portrait.

After Myth leaves, it occurs to me that rings are a necessary part of the ceremony and I walk towards the treasury. On the way I see Alcaster, but shake my head at him to tell him it is not yet necessary to kill Myth. But he still asks, and he knows that simply because it appears that I am planning to marry Myth does not necessarily mean that I don't wish him dead. I almost consider telling him to kill Myth, but this could blow up badly if he tried and failed.

When I reach the treasury, it at least, is still guarded. However, the entire palace staff knows me by now as the cursed daughter of the king and Hildyr even though they remember nothing about me before I was cursed. I am allowed entry, and am shown the trays that contain the rings within the possession of the royal family.

I look for something for myself first, pulling out a tray of rings that would fit my finger without alteration. _Which of these would I like to wear…._ There is one with a delicate lily flower motif that is pretty, but I reject it even though I know it would have been my first choice, once. I can just see the stones coming out during sword practice, and a flower…even my favorite one…does not represent who I am anymore. My essence can no longer be portrayed as something so delicate. Then my eyes land on a ring of rare white gold with a blood-red teardrop ruby as its centerpiece, surrounded by smaller but brilliant diamonds. I hold it up to the light of the candlestick Varg carries. _Is this it…does this represent me?_ I can easily see the ruby as drop of blood, shining against wedding white, and it reminds me strongly of what the fortune-telling witch told me. Whether I have victory or defeat this night, in this battle, I doubt that I will emerge without blood on my hands. After all, I am planning to kill my groom after the wedding with the knife I still have strapped to my thigh if no one else kills Myth first…but for that wedding to occur, several things would have to go badly wrong…including Waltz being killed.

My grasp tightens around the ring for a second before I put it in my pocket, willing the image of my love turning to dust from my mind.

"You _really_ don't want to do this, do you?" Varg asks me, but I ignore him as I replace the tray of rings, and take two trays of rings meant for men out for my consideration.

I realize that I am guessing at sizes for the men. I think Myth's size is a little larger than my thumb, his fingers are slender for a man, while Waltz would be about two sizes larger. I look at the smaller rings first, knowing that Myth leans towards the gaudy, and pick the most gem-encrusted one there that can still be called mannish. I linger longer over the other tray, and find one with diamonds scattered around a black enamel band like stars in the night sky. Waltz would like this.

"You did not pick two rings simply because you are unsure of the crazy witch's size. You have two different rings for two very dissimilar potential grooms," Varg observes.

"I made a promise to wed one of them," I answer, my indifference almost cracking. I cannot let my true self show now. "So it is only practical to have two rings available at the last minute."

"And were _both_ men dead, and you freed from that promise?" Varg asks me, head tilted.

"I am not finding a ring for you, if that is your question," I say dryly.

Apparently, that was his question, because he returns to his silence and spends the next hours not looking at me even as he looks all around me. He is furious, in pain, and yet…he does not slack in trying to protect me.

….

I take supper that evening alone in my room, the rest of the palace still in a frenzied state. The nobles from out of town are arriving right now, as they plan to sleep at the palace after the wedding. Staff not otherwise occupied are showing them to their rooms. I am certain that Parfait has tapped one of them to use their room as a gathering place for her people. My parents, watched over by Myth himself, are socializing with the nobles that do not intend to nap before the ceremony. Some of the nobles have brought their own servants as 'extra hands' to help finish preparations, providing what I hope is perfect cover for anyone Parfait could not sneak into the palace earlier.

I presume Rod is being kept in his room, as are Emelaigne and I. Rod will be at the ceremony, but because Emelaigne is the 'expected' bride she will be out of sight. Alcaster wanted extra insurance, so she will be kept with him in the dining room during the ceremony, close enough to the throne room that a disturbance will be noted, and she will be killed if my father indicates that a coup has taken place.

At least I will know where both Emelaigne and Alcaster are with this arrangement, so I do not object.

At around nine in the evening, I ring my bell and maids and a hairdresser arrive to help me prepare for my wedding. For me, this is tremendously different from the time Ophelia and Emelaigne helped me get ready to look nice for Waltz before a formal event. I know that I am getting ready for either a victory or a nightmare that will take place tonight, instead of simply trying to look beautiful for the man I love. As the maids help me into my wedding dress, I cannot help but wonder which man will help me out of it.

By the time they finish and leave me alone in my room, I am made beautiful by their hand. However, as I look into my mirror I notice that I am so pale the makeup that has been applied to give me extra color stands out on my face more than it should. I close my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to calm myself because I am starting to feel sick. _There is no courage without fear…there is no courage without fear…there is no…._ And this rings true in my heart, and I am afraid. So many things could go wrong, and what if I have to live with the consequences of this night for the rest of my life instead of finding Delora on my shelf again? What if it ends here? But…what if it doesn't end here even in spite of a victory, the cycle begins again, and all my actions have once again been for naught? Even worse…what if Waltz dies, my friends and allies are defeated, and I have to marry Myth as promised…and the cycle starts again? Would I still be married, since my words as a witch are binding, to that awful creature as time restarts again and again?

I find that I have no words, even in the darkest depths of my mind, that can accurately convey the horror of that. But I have no choice but to continue on. I must be strong in the face of whatever happens…and my definition of 'whatever' must be flexible. There is always the Law of Unintended Consequences. Whether my actions have their intended consequences or not, something that I did not intend—possibly something I have not even thought of—will happen.

In the meantime, I am grateful that as far as physical symptoms go I only feel slightly queasy. At least I have avoided fainting this time…so far, at least.

"Princess? You look like death itself," Varg says, and I open my eyes and look in my mirror to see that he stands directly behind me, looking into the mirror to see my face.

I do not answer him, instead retrieving the three rings from the top of my dresser to put them in my pocket. Varg frowns at me, and I can see it, even though his mask still covers much of his face. "It's not that you simply do not love the crazy witch…you _despise_ him so much the mere _thought_ of him touching you disgusts you. I suppose that it does not matter to you that he has decided to worship at your feet instead of at your mother's?"

"No," I answer. "I don't love…." I pause for a moment. This might be the optimal time to try to release Fritz, but I will not lie to him…even as Varg. "I don't think, regardless of what fairytales say that sort of happiness is necessarily for the princess…or at least, for the crown princess. My birthright requires me to be married to my duty first." And I am. Even as I hope that I will marry my true love instead of a man I intend to kill, I have still told Myth to expect Waltz to attack him. This tactic is something like telling guards to expect a thief instead of a full-on assault of the keep, so preparations will be inadequate, but I have still put the man I love in danger for the sake of my duty. The fact that I could weep for having done so does not change my actions, nor the fact that given the same choice I would do so again.

I turn around and stand to face him instead of my mirror, and for perhaps the first time allow him to see a smile…but it is a sad, slow smile. "I guess Fritz and I were always more alike than different, in that way at least. He always put duty before his own heart too," I say, looking Varg right in the eyes. "Tell him that I am sorry."

He stares at me for a moment, and I start to turn away, but then feel pressure against my whole body as I am pressed against the wall, and against my lips as I feel myself being thoroughly kissed with all of the violence of a love denied. But no sooner has Varg done this than he hisses in pain and lets go of me as if he has just embraced a hot coal.

And I understand. Myth has ordered him not to lay a hand on me…and pain is the price of his disobedience. "He gave you a curse that allowed him to control you," I tell Varg. "He knew that you loved me, that even as Varg you would still die to protect me. And he gave you charge over me, but did not allow you to act towards me as you wished. The part of you that is Fritz…."

"Is horrified at what you have become," Varg finishes for me. "He has retreated further because he cannot bear it. I have no compunctions about accepting you as you are, but he is heartbroken."

My eyebrows raise. "Then I am an excellent actress if I even fooled him."

"An _act_?" he asks, eyes wide giving the impression of a wolf sensing a strange, new scent. "This all…it is all an act?!"

"You don't have to stay conflicted like this, the two of you," I explain. "You can just choose to leave, be absorbed back into Fritz, and Myth will not be able to use you as a puppet." I take his face in my hands, looking deep into his eyes. " _This_ is when I am in at my most desperate, Fritz, when I need you the most. It is the only way you will not betray me to Myth."

"He is coming for you just before midnight, Lucette," Varg tells me, his hands encircling my wrists to gently pull my hands down from his face. "He expects Cresswell to beat him here, is waiting until he senses magic being used here before coming to collect you. I…am ordered to kill Cresswell if I can, but Myth expects me to die trying and for him to be able to finish his wounded rival off easier."

 _That COWARD!_ "Don't," I ask quietly, not trying to move my wrists from his grasp. "Please don't…."

He sighs. "You love this Cresswell?"

"He makes me smile every day that I am with him," I answer quietly, feeling a lone tear running down my cheek at the thought of my greatest fear realized. "I would rather die with him tonight than spend a long life without him." _Maybe if I was dead, the cycles would stop…I could still be with Waltz._ And I realize that as much as I love Waltz, that is as much as I hate Myth. I shiver, realizing that I let that snake close enough to kiss me…but I had no choice in it. I had to pay for what I needed.

"I'll take that as a yes. Then…goodbye Lucette," Varg tells me as bright light envelopes him. And there, in his place, stands Fritz smiling uncertainly at me, his curse gone.

And I throw my arms around him. "I've _never_ been happier to see you," I say fervently.

He smiles at me, but then looks at the clock. "It's ten minutes to midnight," he says, and I let go of him. "What is the plan?"

"Both Waltz and Myth should be showing up any minute," I tell him. "Myth needs to be killed. Then we rescue Emelaigne from the dining room and capture your father…I'm sorry about that, Fritz."

Fritz shakes his head at me. "According to Varg, Father gave me the choice in joining him in the coup against your father, or being cursed. I chose the curse thinking he might relent…and knowing that going against your father was wrong. He…did not relent. As much as I hate it, so far as I am concerned, he has sealed his own fate."

I nod, and continue. "Then we go to the wedding, and immediately afterwards you should probably be the one to bring your father in and accuse him of treason against the throne if you think you can bear it. If you think you cannot, Parfait will do so. However, it would be most believable coming from you, and the Lucis Bearer should still be there to back you up."

"And this is taking place while all the guards and knights that belong to my father or are spellbound sit quietly?" he asks, simply in case I have overlooked this.

"I may have invited a few more witches, fairies, and swords into the palace to deal with that eventuality," I say dryly. "I'm not sure how many got in, but I'm certain I saw Jurien here earlier today. If she doesn't kill me herself for sneaking away from her to carry on this charade, all should be well."

He doesn't have time to even snort a laugh before I hear the handle on the door turning, and I practically shove him behind the curtain by the door that hides the cords I pull to summon the servants. Fortunately, it is Waltz that walks in.

I drag him in and quickly shut the door. "Myth will be here any minute," I tell him. "Now quick, do something destructive that looks like the aftermath of someone being killed." I need to cover things so it appears that Varg followed orders, and was destroyed. "You also have my permission to make it look like you are holding me against my will, and I have a friend hiding behind that curtain."

Fortunately, Waltz does not question me or delay and a hot, roaring fire envelopes my couch, destroying it, leaving a large burnt spot in the middle of my room. We go to the far side of the room, him holding me by the wrist and wait. It is less than two minutes before my clock will strike midnight when my door handle turns again.

Myth comes into the room, seeing first the black mark on my floor and grimacing at it before his eyes come to rest on Waltz and myself. "Let her go, traitor," he says grimly. "I would not have my bride harmed."

I know that he would like to have me out of danger, but I did tell him to make it look like he was holding me. Obediently, Waltz instead casts a shield that envelops us both but pushes me down behind him. And then the two witches start to fight in a flurry of light with magic so filling the air I am surprised that I cannot smell it, both of their eyes promising only death.

I know that Waltz is usually the victor in such contests, but he is also concerned about me. When I feel a force grab me, I do not yelp or protest, scared to death of distracting Waltz from his fight. It pulls me from behind Waltz between when he has let one shield go to cast another, but he still notices me.

"Lucette!" he yells, and he tries to move his shield further to protect us both while something purple crackles around Myth's arms, just about to be released.

And Fritz shoves the curtain out of his way and draws his sword in one fluid motion. He does not shout, or taunt…he does not give warning as his blade finds Myth's throat and cuts through his neck like a wolf going for the jugular…like Varg going in for the kill. Blood spurts from the end of Myth's neck, finding my gown, before the last bit of light leaves his eyes and he turns into a pile of dust on my floor.

All three of us are still for a few moments, catching out breaths, stunned. "Lucette!" Waltz yells, running over to me to take me into his arms, and I cannot help but give a small wail as I wrap my arms around him, ever so grateful that his heart is still beating. I almost don't notice the feel of the power of the Tenebrarum start to flow into me as my magic awakes, and my necklace that breaks and falls away from my neck as the clock strikes midnight.

"Lucette…you're shaking," Waltz says, brushing his hand against my face. "Did he…hurt you?" he asks, as serious as death.

And I know what he is truly asking. "No, he didn't…hurt me," I tell him. "I'm just relieved that you're not dead."

He nods, tension releasing from shoulders, and he looks over to the pile of dust. "Thank you, Sir Fritzgerald," he says, his arm still around me as we turn to face the door and Fritz.

"Just take care of her," Fritz replies.

A flicker of understanding crosses behind Waltz's eyes. Maybe he remembers the fortuneteller's prophecy, and realizes that his life had indeed depended on Fritz's choice to allow me the man I loved. "You curse…?"

"Gone," both Fritz and I answer at once.

"Then we have more work to do," Waltz says. "The others are waiting in a room off the next corridor. We assumed that you would know where any hostages were kept. Emelaigne hasn't been seen today, and isn't in her room."

"Alcaster has her under guard in the dining room," I answer.

"And then you have a wedding to get to," Fritz tells Waltz. "The Princess promised that in exchange for Mythros not forcing her to release Hildyr, she would marry her mother's apprentice…and it looks like you are the only one left standing. You have until the clock strikes one to help her keep her word."

Waltz's eyes grow big, and then they come down to rest on mine. "I realize that this isn't the traditional way of doing things, but I would like to take you up on your previous offer," I say, in reference that he told me on our final night that he would pledge himself to me. "Would you marry me tonight, Waltz?"

"How is it that you always manage to surprise me?" Waltz asks. "Of course I will. I would never refuse you anything. Let's save your sister, and then go get married."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" I say with a smile.

Fritz quickly wipes his blade on the curtains before sticking it in its sheath though there is still obvious blood spatter on the hilt and sheath and follows Waltz and I through the halls until we get into one of the guest rooms. Waltz knocks twice, then once, and the door opens to reveal the dearest friends I have in the world. Karma, still in a dress, is there standing with Jurien and Garlan who jump up as soon as we enter the room. Parfait, Delora, and a few witches and fairies that I know by face if not by name stand together in small circles in the large room. The only ones not present are Rumple and Annice, who I suspect are at the Marchen and prepared for any injured that arrive there.

And Jurien takes one look at my dress, and glares at me. "I swear Jurien, that was Myth's blood, and not a drop of it mine!" I get out, and her glare softens.

"Myth is dead," Waltz says, "Alcaster has Princess Emelaigne in the dining room, and Lucette made a deal in which she has to keep her wedding date if not the original groom. We have no time to waste."

No one wastes time in further speech as the lesser witches and fairies either pair up with each other or a sword and scatter down different halls, and I presume they are disrupting spells controlling loyal guards and binding the disloyal ones. Parfait and Delora come with Waltz, Fritz, and I and we start running towards the dining room.

Waltz and Delora don't bother to distingue guards as real or false in our wake, putting each one to sleep as we pass. "I'm so happy to have friends again," I get out, grinning at Delora as she gets a large guard that suddenly appears from around a corner. We are making good progress, and doing something I never could have alone.

"I know you said you liked me, but a _friend_?" Delora asks, as if shocked. "How do you treat your enemies?"

"Well…" I say, pointing down to my dress.

"Oh, right," my second favorite witch says. "You manipulate your enemies to accomplish your goals, and then dispose of them so thoroughly they end up as nothing more than a stain on your dress. In that case, I am happy you consider me your friend, Princess."

"I can see us being friends for many years, Delora," I say. "I see that I have not yet succeeded in my quest to give you grey hairs. I shall have to try harder."

Delora quite nearly squawks, as if she is trying to imagine what _more_ I could do to give her grey hair, but we have arrived at the hallway before the turn to go to the dining room. I look at Parfait, who appears about fall over and I grab her before she can collapse. She really needs to stay out of the fighting, and if I have to I can make a good shield to keep the two of us safe.

"I'll stay here with Parfait while the rest of you get Emelaigne," I say, looking at Fritz, Waltz, and Delora who appear relieved that I am not insisting on coming in with them. I would, but for the sake of efficiency, and…. "She would not trust my voice now, so if someone can cause a distraction…. Fritz, she would trust you to come rescue her," I tell my knight, and he nods. "Lead my sister out, and let the witches do what they must. He will have his most trusted men in there with him."

I hold Parfait up, looking in every direction as she recovers from the sprint. This is not battle damage, something that will make her die faster, but her body is so much more frail than mine. Between my youth and months of practice with the sword I am not even winded while she has trouble catching her breath. Still, she smiles gratefully at me as the other three run around the corner. And I realize that once more the two Bearers are working together, compensating for each other's weakness, doing together what neither one could do separately. This has not happened for years, as the fairy and the witch work to restore balance again. And I know that to maintain the balance of the crystals, we must first balance each other.

And I can't help but wonder if this is the first time Parfait has trusted me as her equal. Quite possibly, this is the first time I have been worthy of it. This time, we are putting _my_ plan into action and it hasn't blown up in my face…yet.

….


	21. Not All Brides Can Wear Blood Well

**Chapter 21. Not All Brides Can Wear Blood Well**

Suddenly, a light bright enough to emanate through to the other side of the dining room's walls shines, and there is the clatter of confusion and shouting. "Fritz!" I hear Emelaigne cry, and then a yelp. I look around the corner to see that Emelaigne still has her hand across her face as if hiding from a great light, the other arm firmly being held by Fritz as he drags her out of the dining room. Then Delora backs out of the room as blue smoke pours from Waltz's arms and into the room. There is a loud clatter as men in armor fall onto the floor, table, or chairs.

I look at a clock in the hall. It is twenty minutes to one. And the wedding ceremony was supposed to start ten minutes ago, as the first half-hour after midnight had been dedicated to music and formalities common to a royal wedding. I guess we'll just skip the niceties when we get there.

"They'll sleep until another witch wakes them," Waltz tells me, and I nod.

"Wake Alcaster in a few minutes, and bring him to my father for judgement," I tell Delora, and she nods.

"I'll do it," Fritz says solemnly. "It's the only way I can restore honor to my family after this." I know that he has extended, if not immediate, family that he will want to protect from the effects of his father's treason. Otherwise, they might be shunned in polite and military society for generations.

"Jurien and Garlan might want to participate too, if they are available," I say, grateful for Fritz's strength. And I look over at my sister who still appears to be in shock, clinging to Fritz's arm as if holding on for dear life. "You might need to bring Emelaigne to the throne room, first. Father needs to know that she's safe."

Parfait and Delora remain with the downed knights, and the rest of us begin to sprint once more. I hold Waltz's hand in mine as we race down the palace corridors toward the throne room where the wedding is to take place. My heart is pounding in victory…Myth is dead; Mother will not return. Grief and pride for the best knight in the world. Still…. _I cannot get this wrong. I cannot make any mistakes before this audience._

I decide to keep Mother out of the story completely. The nobles would demand proof, and her body would dissolve in the Tenebrarum. But…I can still give a truthful, incomplete answer…though I might have to make a few small alterations. This would help avoid a panic. The mere thought of Mother being alive again could cause unnecessary disruption.

Emelaigne runs behind us, clinging to Fritz's hand, as the others take their time bringing Alcaster. There will be time to deal with him after the wedding. She is white and shaking, still unsure of what is happening, but at least she appears to be drawing strength from being rescued by Fritz and appears to be coming out of shock.

At least she has managed to avoid fainting…which is better than how I managed my first time around. Sometimes, I think Emelaigne is stronger than she realizes.

We reach the doors to the throne room with a single attendant standing beside them, and I stop to compose myself, but Fritz quite nearly pushes Emelaigne towards the door in spite of the fact that my sister hasn't caught her breath. "Princess," he tells her, "you have to go in and sit beside your brother and mother. The king needs to know that you aren't in danger."

"But…but what…?" she asks, on the verge of tears.

"You will understand soon," Fritz tells her. "For now, be as brave as you sister and save your tears for later."

Emelaigne still looks like she is on the verge of tears, and it would not do to have her enter weeping. Father might assume that something was wrong instead of right. I give Fritz a look that clearly says, 'So do something about it.' Fritz gives me a nod, sighs, and gives Emelaigne a kiss on the cheek before practically pushing her through the doors past the clearly confused servant.

And it works. As I peek through the crack of the partially open door, Emelaigne is blushing instead of crying as she hurries down the aisle to sit with her brother and mother in the front row. _Blushing will do…anyone can tell this is pleased blushing instead of mortified blushing. She is pleased from being rescued and then kissed by the handsome knight she admires. It's a pity that that kiss was not genuine, but there are more important things to worry over._ As he notices her, my father sits up straighter in his throne. He realizes that something is happening, if not what. If Emelaigne is here, no longer a hostage, something drastic must have changed. And, with that, it is time for Waltz and I to enter.

"Lucette, your dress…" Waltz says, and I look down. The servant in charge of opening the doors is now staring at us in confusion and horror, instead of merely confusion.

It was not a few drops of Myth's blood that found my dress like I had previously thought, not giving it serious consideration. My white wedding gown is obviously streaked with blood from a gushing wound. "It is of no matter. I simply hope bloody gowns will not become a fashion statement." After all, anything unusual a princess wears to her wedding stands a very good chance at becoming a fashion statement…but not every bride can wear the blood of her enemies well. My eyes leave my gown to find Waltz's. "You don't have to do this, you know. It was my promise, not yours."

He smiles at me tenderly. "Lucette, you just offered me everything that I ever wanted. You offered me you. I really don't care that you did it abruptly…that's how you do practically everything else."

My shoulders relax a bit, and I smile at him. "Then, let's go." I look at a clock in the hallway. "It is ten minutes to one."

I nod at the servant, who then throws the doors open and jumps aside. Trumpets blow to announce us, but the herald meant to announce us is dumbstruck, merely staring at us. He simply does not know who Waltz is, and would rather not serve his function than make a mistake. I put my arm in Waltz's and parade down the center istle with my head held high. There are a few gasps as we walk in, but otherwise it is deathly quiet for such a large assembly of people, and I understand why. The princess everyone forgot, and just now remembered, is the bride instead of Emelaigne who is still blushing in the front row. The intended groom, the trusted advisor of the king, has been replaced with a youth in common clothes. My gown is red with blood, and everyone wonders if the groom was violently replaced. I know that my guests are wondering if I am even more vicious than my mother.

When we reach the front before the official, a black-clad priest of Chaos that is somehow appropriate to this night, I look at my father who is seated on his throne on the dais above us. "Father, I have replaced my groom. This is Waltz Cresswell, who I believe you are familiar with. I broke the curse Mother gave him. Under the circumstances, I assume you have no objections?"

My father blinks, taking in the situation, but is able to retain his composure. His family is all before him, and no one with a blade to their throat; his daughter is standing with a man he owes everything to instead of one that tried to take it all away. "Why would I object, when he has earned this reward by ending the Great War practically single-handedly? Proceed," he answers, and I barely stop myself from sighing in relief, and there is a soft collective gasp from the crowd. Not only does my father, a normally benevolent ruler, not care that I have possibly violently replaced the groom, but the youth that stands in his place is a war hero…and was apparently a personal enemy of Hildyr if she had cursed him herself. While it is not unheard of for the hand of a princess to be given to a hero, I guess that Waltz's role in the Great War is not common knowledge. However, the nobles know for a warrior to have no visible weapon means he does not need a physical weapon; this means that the new groom is either a fairy or a witch. Yet more magical blood is being brought into the royal line.

"Straight to the vows," I tell the priest who, while he appears surprised, also appears pleased at the events. Somehow, I am sure he is thinking that no wedding could please his god more than the one taking place right now. I take the rings out of my pocket, give Waltz the one meant for me, and place the one I do not need back in my pocket.

"Do you…Waltz Cresswell…take Lucette Riella Britton as your wife from this moment forward, forsaking all others?" the priest asks. "Will you love, honor, and cherish her as you stand together against the storms of this life?"

"I so swear," Waltz promises putting the ring on my finger, and his grip on my hand tightens. He will never let me go.

"Do you, Princess Lucette Riella Britton, take Waltz Cresswell as your husband from this moment forward, forsaking all others? Will you love, honor, and cherish him as you stand together against the storms of this life?" the priest asks.

"I so swear," I answer, binding myself to my love as I place the black ring with the diamond stars on his finger. I almost sigh in relief when it fits. It occurs to me to wonder if my mother took different wedding vows when marrying Father. After all, she should have been bound to her word…but I know she violated oaths to kill my father's father.

"Then I pronounce you wed," the priest says. "You may kiss your…." Is all I can hear before Waltz takes me in his arms and kisses me more thoroughly than I ever remember him doing. It is the first time he has really had the chance to kiss me since I walked through the palace gates, and he has had more than enough time to miss me. My arms snake around his neck, and for a moment I forget everything else. Then, the clock strikes one.

As soon as Waltz puts me down, the doors slam open loud enough to make half of the audience jump. Fritz walks in, the very picture of implacable determination made flesh, the blood on his white and light grey clothes as obvious as it was on my gown giving everyone an unmistakable hint as to who killed the original groom. Behind him, Jurien and Garlan drag a bound, snarling Sir Alcaster. Parfait follows them, the very picture of a fairy even if not recognized for who she is by all, giving events her full support but acknowledging that she is not the main player here.

No, the Lucis Bearer accedes center stage to me, and my production. And I cannot help but feel like she, who is usually the one organizing and conducting everything, could give me no greater praise.

Waltz and I stand to the side and, taking the hint, the clearly delighted priest moves against the wall as his role is finished. Fritz walks before the king and bows, then unbuckles his sword belt as he kneels directly in front of the throne to present the king with the hilt of Fritz's own, blood spattered sword. Jurien and Garlan force Sir Alcaster to his knees before the dais.

"It is your right to decide, Your Majesty," Fritz says, his voice somehow both raw and restrained, "how to deal with this traitor. If you wish to grant him trail to allow full exposure of his treason against the Crown and Angielle to your subjects, that is your right and I stand ready to offer both testimony and evidence. If you choose to grant immediate justice, I humbly offer Your Majesty my sword to carry it out."

There are yet more gasps as the populace realizes that Sir Alcaster has been accused of treason by his own son, who has offered his own sword to slay his father. My father's gaze turns from the spectacle before him to me…the only one who could give him answers. Who am I really, and what do I seek? These events fit neither the child that was cursed from his memory, nor the monster I portrayed myself as during the last week.

"Father, with your permission, I believe that we owe our guests the courtesy of an explanation before this goes any further," I tell him.

"You are correct Lucette, proceed," he tells me. And I can tell that he can't _wait_ to hear my explanation as to what has just happened, even if the rest of the room might assume from his tone that nothing I say will surprise him.

I turn to face the nobles of the realm. "Good lords and ladies. Some months ago, a witch ally of the Lucis Bearer," I say, nodding to Parfait who simply smiles at me, "cursed me. It was meant to be an instructional curse, to allow me to see things as I never had before. Their goal was to ensure that the next Tenebrarum Bearer did not have the same values as the last. The result was that everyone without either magic or curse of their own forgot about me."

I look over at Waltz. "This is when I met, for a second time, Waltz who had been my mother's apprentice that had betrayed her to the Lucis Bearer and allowed her defeat, and I fell in love with him. However, this is also the time I learned that Sir Alcaster was plotting against his king, and that he had a wicked witch as ally. Sir Fritzgerald, my personal knight, had been cursed as well…except that this curse was performed to control his actions since he refused any part in his father's conspiracy against the king.

"This wicked witch was Myth, who had been my mother's other apprentice. He had put on a glamour to disguise himself, and had embedded himself as Sir Mythros, advisor to the king. While Sir Mythros and Sir Alcaster had a similar goal, they wished different outcomes. Alcaster wanted to destroy the royal family completely at first and rule in the king's place, but Myth wished a return to the darkness of my mother's reign."

Every eye was set upon me, each person in the room hanging on my every word. Even Parfait, who know or guessed most of this, was watching me closely. I continued. "Now, either of them would have betrayed the other as fast as they betrayed the king, but then Alcaster found out about my existence and they decided they shared a purpose still. Alcaster sifted through the knights, promising promotions to some, having Myth enslave others with magic, dismissing the rest until the guard was under their…rather than the king's…control. They also had searchers, looking for me. Before they found me, the axe fell and the royal family became prisoners in their own palace. And then I knew that there was only one way I could save my family.

"The populous may have known at this point that something was not right in the palace, but not what had happened. When I voluntarily entered the palace, I saw the divisions already starting between the traitors. However, I judged Myth as the more serious threat and decided that he needed to be killed before moving against Alcaster would be possible. I decided, until my allies and I gained opportunity," I say, with a meaningful glance at Parfait, "that I would pretend to give both men what they wanted. You see, they both wanted my mother, or someone as much like her as possible. My curse would end either when I broke it myself, or when I turned eighteen and became the new Tenebrarum Bearer. At that point, I would be able to legitimize the coup if I so chose, and public unrest could be avoided.

"So, I made myself seem like my mother in every word and deed. I told Alcaster that he could have the strength and order he craved through the fear of myself as I was crowned queen. I flattered Myth, whispered of the power we could have once I was Tenebrarum Bearer. I also told both men that the royal family had their uses, and it would be premature to kill them before those uses were fully realized. Alcaster was content with my reasoning, but Myth demanded more of me. In exchange for the lives of my family, he wanted me to marry him. While my mother had never taken him as a lover, that had not stopped him from worshiping at her feet. He could not have her, but it was possible for him to have me who was now, in his mind, the very image of the woman he had so ardently adored.

"A witch's word is binding. I agreed to marry my mother's apprentice, if he still lived, within the hour of my turning eighteen in exchange for what I wanted. Myth noticed my alteration, but thought that I was trying to set him up for a confrontation with his rival, Waltz. He was aware that I had broken the curse my mother had placed upon Waltz, but was not sure if it had been on purpose or accidental. He was unaware that I was in love with Waltz. Myth forced my father to announce and arrange this marriage ceremony, and give the lie that he was ill to give coverage to the necessity of a hasty wedding between his 'trusted advisor' and the crown princess.

"Tonight the Lucius Bearer gathered her forces to help me. They sneaked into the palace, using the wedding as coverage for their entrance, and Waltz found my room where I was preparing for my wedding. I had found how Sir Fritzgerald could rid himself of his curse to cease being Myth's puppet, and I explained this to him shortly before Waltz came in. Not a minute later, Myth came in, intending to collect his bride.

"Myth saw me with Waltz, and the two men began to fight. Fortunately, Sir Fritzgerald was able to throw off his own curse, and he killed Myth with the sword that you now see him offering to His Majesty. We rescued my sister, who was being held hostage by Sir Alcaster to ensure the king did not indicate in any way that a coup had taken place. The first traitor is dead, and the second awaits my father's judgement before you," I finish.

I look up, and Fritz is still kneeling before my father, the scabbarded blade still proffered before the king. "Don't mind me, Father," I tell him. "I might as well wear the blood of both of the traitors."

My father looks into my eyes, and I know that in this moment, he must define both the rest of his reign and the start of mine. Do we seek the full exposure of the criminal caught in his misdeeds, or is justice so swift Alcaster's allies will be deprived of a rallying point? He normally would choose the justice of a trial, but the treason of this man is in no doubt so it would only be spectacle. In trial Fritz, myself, and the entire royal family would be subject to the witness stand, forcing us to relive the horrors we endured at Alcaster's hand.

And my father has felt nothing but powerlessness, knowing that this was partially his fault for refusing to listen to Garlan and Jurien, who now stand vindicated while they hold the traitor at his feet. Now he understands what I have done for him, what I have risked for him, to keep him and the rest of my family alive and to give him back his throne. He understands that I caused both him and our family pain, and suffered myself, only because I had no other choice. In doing so, I have demonstrated unequivocally that I love him in the most painful way that I could have shown him. And he is furious at the traitor that kneels before him for making my actions necessary, if for no other reason. He cannot deny his own righteous fury.

I am certain that nights of tears from his wife, children, and himself ring in his ears. While they may have been able to give each other some comfort, he knows that I shed my own tears alone while being forced to show everyone around me a face that was not mine.

I am not surprised when my father's eyes leave mine, only to draw Fritz's already bloody sword from its scabbard. Then, his eyes turn to the traitor before him. "Sir Alcaster," he says, voice steady and strong enough to echo in the throne room, "I hereby strip of you of all title, rank, and property, which will now go to the son you should have heeded. Your sentence is death by the sword." My father rises from his throne, and walks towards the traitor.

There is some murmuring among the guests, but no gasping at this. The look on Alcaster's face is pure fury, but he knows that nothing he can say will save him. In this instance, he can't even start yelling about Myth being a witch since Myth is already dead.

Fritz stands once the king passes where he knelt, and turns to look at his father. "Goodbye Father," he says, in a voice that sounds like it belongs to a man two days dead. His grip on the scabbard he holds is so tight, I can see his fingers are white.

I realize that I can't even begin to imagine the pain Fritz is in right now. He has been betrayed by his father who is about to be executed in front of him with the sword he offered, and the woman he adores stands near him but married to another man. In light of this, occupying his father's lands, title, or position means nothing to him. It is a small miracle that he is standing upright, able to confront the man that should have loved him.

The man that I, at least, know would have killed him given the chance.

For a moment, some kind of grief seems to pass behind Sir Alcaster's eyes, but I don't know if I really saw it or if I saw it only because I wished that it was so. His shoulders slump in defeat, and he bows his head, but he offers the bow to me instead of my father. He knows now what I truly am, and still considers me my father's superior. I am not surprised by this; while conducting this counter-coup I have demonstrated characteristics he thinks my father incapable of. "If I might have one last request, Your Majesty? Would you grant me the honor of dying by Her Highness's hand? It would be a privilege to die at a blade wielded by the greatest monarch Angielle is every likely to have, even if she does not wear the crown she is deserving of yet."

My father's eyebrow's raise, but I know Sir Alcaster's last deed is to have his death serve Angielle. In his own way, he still loves his nation, if not his son. If even my bitterest enemy respects me, then all the nobles in attendance certainly should. It goes without saying that with my strength…be it political, intellectual, or magical…they would be fools to oppose me. If he cannot give Angielle a monarch it will fear, he can still give one that it must respect.

I look over at the sword. I know that witches are not to use magic to harm humans, but I would not be using magic…simply a sword. This is necessary, and a sentence I would have given myself. And no one should order a deed done that they would not commit by their own hand; it really comes down to the same thing. I remember that Alcaster noted the callouses on my hands, indications that I had been working with the sword. He knows that I will make it quick and clean death. I nod to my father who hands me Fritz's weapon.

I give the sword a quick flourish, testing its weight…and showing that I know how to handle a blade…and say, "The Crown grants your request," as I bring the blade through Alcaster's outstretched neck. Between Fritz's careful maintenance of his weapon's sharpness and my months of training with Klaude and the others, only one blow is necessary. And once again, my wedding dress is bloodied.

The contrast of white and red on my dress reminds me of the contrast between that Waltz usually covers my eyes, or tells me to look away from the dead and dying; but now he stands silently beside me as I do what is necessary. He knows now that there are things he cannot protect me from as the last embers of my childhood are extinguished in the name of my duty and love toward my family and nation. He knows that there are certain prices I must pay for them, and he accepts that now without protest or complaint. He will make an excellent prince consort.

Without a further word, Jurien and Garlan bow to their king who dismisses them with a comment that they may consider their privileges restored, and their ranks elevated. They bow once more, take hold of the traitor's body from the armpits after gathering the severed head, and drag it out of the throne room leaving a slick red trail behind them. Parfait remains where she is, and as the doors are opened for the knights and their burden I can see Delora at the entrance flashing me an 'all clear' signal.

Good. Parfait can play diplomat with the nobles while Delora can put the body someplace appropriate and continue to ensure that the knights do not erupt.

"So…you were only pretending the whole time…you were protecting us?" Emelaigne asks, her soft voice still unmeasurably loud in an atmosphere that is still breathless.

I turn around and smile at my sister. "I'm so sorry Emelaigne. I couldn't tell you what was going on because you're a terrible actress, your reactions actually have to be genuine to be read that way, and that could have ruined everything..." is all I can get out before Emelaigne runs out of her chair to hug me, bawling at the top of her lungs. I hand Fritz's sword back to him to hug her, and as I try to sooth her the king dismisses the now murmuring crowd. They are told to go to the ballroom where there will be refreshment, but that it is understood if they wish to retire to their homes or rooms within the palace in light of the hour and the excitement tonight.

As if _anyone_ will sleep after a spectacle like this.


	22. A Difference

**Chapter 22. A Difference**

I am sure that this is the one wedding no one will ever forget; I doubt that many of the nobles will go straight to bed. They will be talking with each other for hours before it will occur to them that they need sleep. After all, a counter-coup is quite exciting.

Before she can leave with the others, I grab Parfait for a quick word. "I saw Lord Decimond with the others. Please explain that Emelaigne _so_ wants to enjoy her friend's wedding, but is overwhelmed right now," I nod to the girl still weeping in my arms, "and the Crown would consider it a favor if it could be delayed long enough for me to figure out how to dispel curses. Perhaps a week or two."

Parfait smiles at me. "Of course, Your Highness," she says as she leaves. "I look forward to a longer discussion with you later. But for now, you need the companionship of your family the most."

 _Of course, she knows of things I left out, and wants the entire story. Well, I am happy to have her alive to converse with._

"I would like a private word with my family at this time," my father says, leading us toward a preparation room just off the throne room.

Waltz seems to hover for a moment, but then I hand Emelaigne to her mother to grab his arm and pull him along with me. "That means you too, now," I say as I smile at him. He looks startled a moment, as if just realizing that he has a real family again, and smiles back at me. We all enter a small, but well-appointed room, and Rod closes the door behind us, and I find myself facing my family instead of a room of strangers. I am suddenly much more self-conscious.

Ophelia is hugging Emelaigne now, smoothing her hair as my sister sobs. Rod is looking at me with a grin that clearly says I-can't-believe-you-just-pulled-that-off. My father…there is pride in my father's eyes, as well as tears. "Lucette," he says softly, "I…."

In an instant, I am now in his arms, weeping, the pressure of events finally able to escape into tears. "Father, Father, I am so sorry," I cry. "I'm sorry for rebuffing you when you finally able to try to come closer to me, for being cruel to your new wife and her children, for scaring you all half to death even if it was because it was the only way to keep you all alive…for not even asking what you thought of Waltz before the wedding." It's not that I think he was disappointed in any way to have me replace Myth with Waltz, but I wished there could have been a way to ask him.

"I'm sorry too, Lucette," he whispers into my hair, and I realize that he is weeping too. "I failed you when you were most vulnerable after your mother's 'death.' I was trying to put my kingdom back together, undoing everything she had done to it. I was trying to find Ophelia; to ensure she had survived the dark times. I knew that Hildyr would leave no body, but there was no one that I could find that had actually witnessed her death. I was afraid that she might still live…afraid that she would be back for you if I disregarded her orders to stay away from you.

"My focus was everywhere it needed to be…everywhere but on you. When I had decided that she was really gone, and I did try to come closer to you, everything I did was too little, too late. I failed you then, and then I failed you again. I was not able to help when you were cursed…I can't believe that I forgot you entirely even if it was the result of a curse! I nearly allowed you to marry a man you hated. Even with everything, you were unable to hide that particular fact from me." He pulls back enough to look me in the eye. "I wasn't even able to give you a proper romantic wedding; it was stained with blood and intrigue, and a good amount of it had to be conducted by your own hand!"

"I can't make myself care about that, Father," I tell him. "The result of such a wedding is that it is _extremely_ unlikely that anyone will ever try to usurp me. In fact, anyone insane enough to try will simply be laughed at by those he needs as allies to do so."

My father actually laughs at that, "Usurp a curse-breaker that is not too squeamish to dispatch her enemies herself? The innocent will love you, but you will terrify the wicked."

"And somehow, I still manage to remain a terrifying creature," I remark, noting the irony, that even when 'good' I still terrify at least some people. "And as for your other failures…just do not repeat them. I have failed at things in the past myself," I admit, thinking of the many cycles in which disaster had struck due to my misjudgments, "but if you can learn from them, I will be satisfied."

My father frowns. "If I had been more vigilant, and checked Garlan and Jurien's claims, this might never have happened."

"You might have found out Alcaster," I tell him, "but I doubt that you would have discovered Myth for what he was. But yes, it is usually less complicated to deal with one enemy than with two. But then…if you only have one enemy, you can't play one against the other."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Remind me to give your politics tutor a bonus later."

"Naturally," I say, and then take a deep breath. They were alive. They were _all_ alive. But that was not to say that there was not still pain. I pull away further from my father's chest. "Father, please keep Fritz busy…preferably, not in my immediate vicinity for a while. You see…he loved me too."

A whimper escapes from my sister, but understanding flickers in my father's eyes, and he nods. "Rooting out the treacherous guards and knights will keep him busy for a long time. But you…?" He asks the question to me, but looks at Waltz. He wants to know if I married Waltz only because I had to, because I had given my word to marry my mother's apprentice.

"I don't love Fritz romantically, no," I tell both men. "But he is the most loyal friend I've ever had. I hate seeing him suffer, but there is nothing I can do about it." And I do not think that even the fact that I killed his father will have any impact on that loyalty. He knew that it had to be done…just as I know that my mother has to die. Neither of us wants to be the one to do the deed ourselves, though Fritz came dangerously close in offering my father his sword, and would have nothing but a painful gratitude to whomever does end the life of the parent that showed us nothing but betrayal. And it grieves me that while I still have a father that cares for me, I know that Fritz's mother died years ago.

My father nods, and I know that he will see to Fritz. And if Emelaigne remembers our pre-curse discussion, she knows to give Fritz some time to heal before initiating any kind of serious pursuit of him. Somehow, I don't doubt that she'll start pursuit eventually. My delicate flower of a sister is nearly as stubborn as I am, when she sets her mind to something.

Perhaps that fragile flower ring I left in the treasury is meant for her. It might suite her.

"I'm sorry, I feel the need to apologize to you as well," I say to my step-family. "I ignored and marginalized you when I had no right to. My own pain is not sufficient excuse for acting the way I did towards you."

I turn to Rod. "I told Parfait to move your deadline. I'm going to start working tomorrow to try to start learning how to expunge curses." And I hope that I will be able to take care of that soon.

"You know," Sebby says for Rod, once again on his shoulder now that it is unnecessary for Rod to keep him quiet, "when you first told me that you would get us out alive if a coup happened, I thought you were only going to do so because you were merely territorial. But you've changed, and I am happy to see it. The entire kingdom will be better for it…although I do have to note that your definition of the word 'unconventional' is somewhat terrifying."

My father's eyes widen. "Rod…you knew what was going on the entire time! Is that why you were trying to get your mother and sister out of the palace these last weeks?"

"Well…since I am also cursed, I did not forget about Lucette," Rod explains. "We have been in contact, and she has been sure that there was an oncoming coup for some time…months, actually. The next time she says that something is up…I would listen immediately. I was pretty skeptical at first, but then the things she told me to look for started happening."

I smile at my brother. "I was hoping that you still had faith in me, that you knew that I had not betrayed you all when I arrived at the palace. I…had to be pretty rough on you, so Myth would not suspect that I was trying to save you."

Rod frowns. "You were very convincing…but then I saw that curse necklace you showed Myth…it's why I was certain that you were lying to him. I know you were getting good deeds, but there was no evidence of that on the necklace. Was if fake?"

"No," I tell him. "I broke my curse once, and had Delora curse me again. I thought having a blank necklace would make Myth trust me more."

Waltz starts at this, and then begins laughing as he gives me a hug. "But you told Delora that you had wanted to be cursed again because…."

I grin and raise my chin. "You can want something for more than one reason," I tell my groom.

He sighs, still chuckling at me. "Exactly _how_ long where you planning for this eventuality? I remember some relatively distant conversations you were having that make more sense now."

"Long enough," I answer, still smiling at him. Then, I turn towards my sister. "I'm still up for that tea party, Emelaigne," I tell her. "I do have one request of you."

Emelaigne has stopped weeping, but her eyes are still red and puffy as she tries to smile through her tears, but the smile is not that convincing. "What is it?" she asks.

"That you don't wear your smile as a mask around me," I tell her. "I know you smile sometimes simply to hide your pain. You are still uncomfortable with life as a princess and the responsibilities of the role…and are now probably quite happy that you have at least avoided mine…but I do not think any less of you for it. If you ever want to talk about it, I'm happy to listen."

The smile on Emelaigne's face appears to be genuine now. "I don't think that I could have ever done what you just did for us all. You were right…I am a terrible actress. You were right not to tell me. You have a strength that I will never have," my sister admits.

"I stubbornly refused to let any of you die," I tell her, "and did what was necessary to avoid it. You have your own stubborn nature as well, and are stronger than you think you are."

"I still think I would have cracked less than halfway through even the first dinner conversation," she insists.

She speaks the truth, but I know that even _I_ could not have done this on my first time through. Probably not on the third time either. The maturity these cycles have taught me is invaluable in and of itself. "Perhaps," I tell her, "in that case, it is a good thing it was my burden instead of yours."

"You are right about me," she admits. "I never wanted the burden of being a princess, but I didn't want to appear ungrateful for it," Emelaigne says, her eyes darting between her mother and stepfather. "I only ever wanted everyone to be happy."

"In that case," I tell her, "you may be an indispensable help to me from becoming corrupted by the Tenebrarum. I have been told that the best way to fight it is to be surrounded by people that love you."

Now her smile is not only genuine, but eager. I have told her that she is not useless, that she may even be vital, and that she may have the friendship with me that she always wanted.

I turn to Ophelia, "I never admired your grace and kindness as I should have. Thank you for being there for my father when I could not. He paid a high price for you, I know that now, and I wish you both nothing buy joy."

Ophelia smiles at me. "I know you didn't always see me as your mother, Lucette, but you were always a daughter to me whether you knew it or not." She turns her gentle smile to Waltz. "And welcome to the family, Waltz."

Waltz, who has been largely ignored while most of the attention was on me, smiles. "Thank you. You are very kind, and I am honored to be a member of your household. It has been some time since I've had an actual family."

My father smiles, and claps him on the shoulder. "You'll need your magic to keep up with my daughter; I don't think there's another man more suited to her. I also don't recall thanking you properly for what you did for the kingdom. If memory serves, Lucette brought that to my attention, once." And I cannot help but grin at my father's words.

"I didn't do it for the kingdom," Waltz explains, "I did it for Lucette. And you just gave me her hand in marriage; there is no greater reward you could have granted me."

My father smiles as he nods, and then frowns. "Lucette, I noticed that you kept Hildyr out of your story, perhaps even altered it a little. What happened there?"

"I thought it was best not to mention her," I tell him. "She had taken refuge in the Tenebrarum to save herself and stabilize it. As the new Bearer, there was a small window when I could have freed her but it is closing as we speak. The Tenebrarum may have even dissolved her body by now, resulting in no physical proof of her survival until this point. Also, saying that she hadn't died when everyone thought she had may fuel rumors that she is still alive, and that's the last thing we need."

"True enough," my father agrees. "When you confirmed that she was still alive, it certainly frightened me."

I shrug. "You had right to be worried. The very first thing she would have likely done would have been to kill you, and take the kingdom."

A chill goes through the entire room, as we all think of what Hildyr could have done. While the others have only their imaginations to consult, I have my memory of my mother's deeds, and I shiver. I think of all the people she did, or tried to, kill…all the lives stopped short or else mangled so badly death may have been an improvement. I feel Waltz's grip on my hand tighten, and I am reminded that she killed his entire family.

And then I realize why I choose Waltz, out of all the choices I could have made. It wasn't merely because all the others were unsuitable for one reason or another. For my entire life everyone has looked at me, expecting to see another version of my mother. They looked at the two of us seeing only our similarities; Waltz, who had been the only one of them to truly know my mother and had had the most reason to hate her, had looked at the two of us and had only seen the differences.

And I truly love him for it.

"You know," I consider as I start to pull Waltz towards the door, "we should probably put in an appearance in the ball room for courtesy's sake." I wrap my arm in Waltz's and lead him out of the small room towards the ball room. When we are alone in the hallway, I continue. "And then off to bed…though I'll have to have the servants make up another room since the old one is in…disarray."

Waltz nods. "I can see where you would be exhausted. It's been a long day…."

But I interrupt him, grinning ear to ear. "I didn't say that I was exhausted, _husband._ I said that I wanted to go to bed. I think we ought to celebrate." I am sure that I am blushing.

Waltz's head swerves back towards me, his face now as red as a sunset. But he is grinning as much as I, obviously eager to be alone with his bride. "I think that that's a marvelous idea, wife. How short of an appearance can we make, but still be considered polite?"

I catch a maid on the way there, and explain our needs before entering the ball room. As we pass through the grand doors to where my guests wait, I can only think to myself that if I had to do it over again, I wouldn't change a single thing. There has been pain and joy, fear and courage, hate and love. All these emotions are a part of me, each one impossible without the other, and I have caused all of these emotions in others feeding both crystals as well. Both crystals growing in power together, under my watchful eye.

And I think that I have found what it means to have my balance, that I will be able to help maintain the equilibrium between the Crystallum Lucis and the Crystallum Tenebrarum in my own heart.

And I desperately hope that I will not wake within hours to find Delora on my shelf once more.

….

I, Lucette Riella Briton, the Crown Princess of Angielle, find that I am afraid to open my eyes as a delicious dream I cannot quite remember flits away. My last ending was so perfect, I cannot help but be fearful that I will have to start over again, that I will return to the day I was cursed. I did everything as perfectly as I could, and it turned out as well as I could ever have hoped. My father regained his throne, my mother was destroyed without her evil being loosed on the world, the traitors were dead, I married the man I love more than any other…and I managed all of that without anyone dear to me dying.

I feel the softness of a bed that can only be located in the palace…but that is fine. I went to sleep in the palace. As I take inventory of my senses, I notice that I still feel sore from my first night of lovemaking. This is good. However, the two of us are not still entangled as we were when I went to sleep, nor do I hear his soft breathing.

This is not right.

Now, I am terrified to open my eyes. What if it has happened again, and Delora sits on my shelf? But no…it cannot be. Surely Waltz, my husband, is sleeping beside me. I reach out next to me, trying to find him with my hands, eyes still tight shut, when I realize that I am in a nightgown. This should not be; Waltz and I had just been celebrating our wedding night in traditional style, and I should not be wearing anything at all.

Panic starts to set in, and my eyes open wide to find my worse fear confirmed. The soft morning light reveals myself alone in my own familiar room in the palace, rather than the guest bedroom I had fallen asleep in last night. I rise from my bed, walk over to the shelf that holds my dolls with bated breath, searching for one particular doll knowing she will be there before I set eyes on her.

"Delora," I whispered, my eyes falling on a dark haired, unusually realistic looking doll. If Delora was here, in doll form, it had happened again. Once more, it has all been for naught. But even though everything had gone just as I intended, and even though the balance between the crystals appeared to have been achieved, it had _still_ happened again. And I feel empty inside, somehow too grieved to weep.

Then I feel a twinge on my hands, and I look down at them to see small arches of light flicker.

I freeze where I stand, looking at my hands. That was magic.

"What…what _is_ this?" I whisper, wondering if I should believe my eyes. This has never happened before. It is only when I turn eighteen that I am able to start using my magic. That is months away…why is it different now? What changed, who changed it, and why? Is it possible that I did something the last round that caused this?

But my choices in previous cycles have never affected the world I wake up in when the cycle starts again. I do not know how that could have changed. Perhaps there is some other force at work. Why is less important right now than what I have to do about it.

I consider trying to draw on the Tenebrarum, to see if I am also now the Bearer, but if I did that successfully Myth might sense it. He could tell another witch was in the palace when Delora was actively looking for him. More importantly…if I can use magic…am I now able to release my mother from the Tenebrarum? Whether I can or not…it is a risk I cannot take.

 _I need to get out of the palace, out of Myth's reach…now!_

It's just as well that I am supposed to be leaving to go to town after breakfast. I could try to convince Rod to take me to the Marchen now, but…perhaps it would be better if I talked to Father before leaving. I really should go to breakfast first.

At any rate, I know that this cycle will be unlike any of the others. Now that I can use magic, it will be impossible to curse me. No one will forget me this time. I can still go and live in the Marchen, but under the necessity of magical training rather than as numbered among the cursed. I can still be with Waltz.

 _Waltz._ _He will not remember…._

Sharp strands of light appear on my hands again, but disappear as I stamp down on my emotions hard. I know that I cannot afford to wallow in tears right now. The actions I must take immediately are my priority. I can weep later.

After performing my morning ablutions, I ring a bell and a maid comes to help me dress and put my hair up. Instead of what I normally wear around the palace, I pick a more practical dress with very large pockets. Once the maid leaves, I stuff the small winged box into one pocket, and find the key. Since it is so small, I string it on a long necklace so it lies hidden within my bodice. Then, I turn around to my doll shelf to find Delora.

"Hello Delora," I tell her. As I always talk to my dolls, this would not seem abnormal to her. I do have to wonder if she caught the magic at my fingertips. "I am going into town today, and I think I would feel better if you came with me," I say, and then I pick her up and stick her into my pocket. It is deep enough that only her eyes and forehead peek out.

I take one final look around me room, trying to decide if there is anything else I might want to take. The Marchen sees to my needs well enough, though I think I might ask Father for some gold for my expenses so I don't have to labor. If seeing to my magical education becomes a priority, I might not have time for sweeping the floors…and Parfait could really use the gold. On impulse, I reach under my bed and withdraw the crude puppet, the first puppet Waltz made when I was teaching him how to sew, and stick it in my pocket with the box. Then I take a deep breath, and walk through my bedroom doors for perhaps the last time in months.

…..

 _Author's note:_

 _*hunkers down behind a brick wall, wearing a helmet, in case anyone decides to throw things at her*_

 _Why do people assume that 'happily ever after' immediately follows the wedding? It's actually something to work on for the rest of one's life…not that we are going to be following Lucette for the rest of her life. We will be sticking around until this cycling problem is resolved._

 _I know that it seemed like a good ending, but we haven't really addressed the truth of_ why _the cycling started in the first place. There is more story left, and it is still good! Keep reading!_

 _The proverbial fat lady hasn't even started warming up her vocal cords yet. To those of you who have told me that you wished that this story would continue longer, you're welcome! :D_


	23. Quite Shocking

**Chapter 23. Quite Shocking**

As always, I pass two maids gossiping about more people being cursed on my way to breakfast. Instead of berating the gossiping servants or even startling them, I glide right past, ignoring them. I have no time for this.

"Princess? The king and queen are waiting for you in the dining hall," a maid tells me as she curtsies.

"I'm coming," I reply.

Upon entering the dining area, I see my father the king, my stepmother Ophelia, and stepbrother Rod already at the table.

"Good morning Lucette," my father says.

"Good morning Father," I reply, startling him as I normally call him 'Your Majesty.' I really do not care who I surprise this time, or if anyone thinks my behavior odd. My magic started early—and unexpectedly to me!—and that will suffice as an explanation once this becomes known. I just know that I cannot call him 'Your Majesty' again…not when I clearly remember how my father painfully called me 'Your Highness.' He was afraid to use my name when I was making it clear to Myth that the royal family was even more under my own thumb than his own.

"Good morning Lucette," my stepmother greets me.

Instead of staring blankly at her, I nod politely and reply, "Ophelia," which is far more civil than my usual greeting, or lack thereof. This has not gone unnoticed, and as I take my seat beside my father, Rod is staring at me as if he is wondering if I am sick.

Before Rod has had proper time to assess if my face is red with fever, Emelaigne bursts through the doors. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" she apologizes. "I was reading and forgot the time. Good morning dear Father, Mother. Good morning Rod! Good morning Lucette! It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?"

Her, I only stare at. I'm not sure that I would consider this morning 'beautiful.' There is an air of something changed, something potentially dangerous…and fragile as if a wrong breath could cause death and disaster. I feel as if I am sitting on the edge of a knife instead of my chair in the dining room, and that the balance might tip either way causing a catastrophe at any moment. I will not be able to relax until I walk through the doors of the Marchen…until I am home. However, I try to hide my worry and no one here seems to make a note of my discomfort.

"Now that everyone is here, let us begin," the king says, and servants enter and serve us breakfast.

"So Emelaigne," Ophelia begins once we have been served, "you were reading the Fairytale books that the king brought you?" I begin eating immediately, knowing that if I don't start now I will not have a chance for any breakfast at all.

"Oh yes," Emelaigne practically squeals. "There are so many and they are all so wonderful. Thank you so much Father!"

"I am happy that you like them," the king replies.

"I love them!" Emelaigne replies. "It's so strange that the library didn't have any of them to begin with."

"Mother burned them," I say, changing what I would have said slightly, somewhat regretful that I have not managed more than a few bites. I need to make it sound like I am fishing for my father's opinion as to whether or not all witches are evil. "Either she did not want me reading them, or she simply liked burning things at that point."

"But why? They are such charming stories," Emelaigne says.

"They give an inaccurate view of the world," I say, trying to change what I typically say, but not so much so that I am put to bed and a doctor fetched for me. I cannot afford to stay in the palace long enough to permit that. "Life is a mixture of success and failure, triumph and tragedy. If there was no failure, success would mean nothing. In the fairytales the 'heroes' always succeed. Their suffering is always deemed unjust by the storyteller, even when they were complicit in causing their circumstances. Without exception, every witch is portrayed as evil even when they simply make a bargain for what the hero requested of them, and every fairy as good even when there are strings attached to their favors."

I have read some of the fairytales from a book in the Marchen, and I know that everything I have said is accurate. Still, my father asks, "What exactly are you implying about witches, Lucette?"

"Merely that humans are as capable of victimizing each other and themselves as any witch is," I reply. "I also prefer to make character judgments based on actions or inactions rather than whether an individual was born fairy, witch, human, or even half-blood. I don't see how a person's virtue, or the lack thereof, can be determined merely by the accident of their parentage."

"Do you know what you are talking about child?" the king says. "Witches have caused nothing but pain and suffering to this kingdom. Even now, they still spread the Fairytale Curse to our innocent subjects."

"So you have never met a good witch? There is not _one_ witch that either you yourself or the kingdom owes anything to?" I say, thinking of Waltz…thinking of myself. Will my father condemn me for what he knows I will become…what I actually am this very minute? If I ever get the chance to bear my own heirs, will he condemn his grandchildren as well?

Father opens his mouth irritably, then closes it before letting out a soft sigh. "They are in the minority," he finally answers. "But you are right Lucette, there is one witch the kingdom owes much to, but many others who have only caused harm."

"And how did you repay W…him?" I ask, quite nearly forgetting that I am not supposed to know what Waltz did to end the war. My father does not seem to catch my slip. "Perhaps if Angielle paid its debts properly there would be more motivation for actions that are beneficial to the kingdom."

"Perhaps you are suggesting I should offer him your hand in marriage as reward, Lucette?" he says wryly.

 _I'd marry him again at a moment's notice. But Father never did_ anything _for Waltz, and he owes him_ everything _!_ In my flash of irritation, I open my mouth to respond, but instead those small arches of light dance up and down my hands again, and into my forearms. I hiss in pain, and quickly look around to see who saw it. Most of the servants have gone, leaving only a few that stand behind me, and my long-backed chair may have hidden me from their view. But my family has noticed.

Rod and Emelaigne, sitting across from and beside me, stare at me wide-eyed. Ophelia lets out a small gasp, and immediately looks to my father whose cheeks are now bloodless. "Excuse me," I say as I hurriedly leave the table. As I exit the room, I hear another chair rub against the floor as someone comes to follow me.

I take the first door I see, and end up in the music salon. Fortunately, it is empty…at least until my father comes through the doors and I turn to face him. "What is happening to me Father? What am I?" I ask him, allowing a tremor into my voice.

"Lucette," he says gently, trying to calm me.

"There is clearly something you haven't told me. That was magic, so I have to be either a fairy or a witch, and you would not have hidden it if I were part fairy!" I exclaim, but not too loudly, as if I want no one to know…as if I do not know that all of Angielle is aware of what I am.

"Lucette," my father says again, as he tries to calm me down. But I can see the fear in his eyes. He knows how badly this could go. "You are still my daughter."

I am silent for a moment. "The servants are not speaking in figurative terms when they call my mother a witch, are they?" I ask softly. "Is that what I am?"

My father sighs. "Yes Lucette. Your mother was a witch…making you a half-blood. You were not supposed to come into your magic until you turned eighteen like all other half-bloods…but your mother was powerful enough that I could see an exception happening in your case."

But I know that my ability to use magic already has nothing to do with how powerful my mother was, or that she was the Bearer, even if my father sees this as an acceptable explanation. Something else must be going on, and I have no idea what. "But you hate witches," I tell him. "Why did you marry one, knowing what she was, or did you not know?"

"I knew what she was…but she…didn't give me a choice about marrying her," he says, starting out slowly. "Your mother may have cared for you, but she had no affection for anyone else. She wanted to be queen, wanted the power of the throne. To get it…she killed my father and threatened to kill the woman that I did love if I did not marry her instead."

"Ophelia?" I guess, and my father nods. "And Mother was not only a witch, but a corrupted one if she killed…." He nods again, and I stop for a moment. "How could you give the kingdom to a corrupted witch for the sake of one woman? Isn't that how the Great War started, when the corrupted witches seized power and fairies fought against them? How is any one life worth that?"

His eyes drop from mine. "I…cannot give a good answer for that," he admits. "After killing Ophelia, she would have gone on to kill others as well, but…it would have been easier for the fairies to stop her if she had never had the resources of the crown."

"If you do not have a good answer, give me your poor answer," I tell him, and my father sighs.

"You have never been in love, Lucette," he says, and it is all I can do to keep a straight face so he does not read the pain. I have loved, and been loved, by five different young men at various times, trying one then the other thinking that I might have to do something in particular to make this cycling stop, and I would gain the opportunity for it by making different choices. I know what heartache feels like, to feel the deaths of my paramours, or even simply to look into the eyes of a man I loved and see nothing…not even the recognition of someone they liked in Klaude or Chevalier's case.

Rod was worse…I woke up one day, and he hated me again. I had taken comfort in that he was alive to hate me, that I had a chance to try again, but…. It had been the first time I had woken up to find Delora on my shelf, the first repeat cycle, and I had not been sure what had happened. I had only known that Delora was on my shelf when she should not have been, and every interaction seemed a repeat of the fateful day I had been cursed. I still do not know for certain why I am cycling. To be fair, none of them ever remember going thorough this cycle with me. I am the only one that changes as I cycle again and again.

Now, I am becoming afraid of love itself. I gain the world every time, only to lose it when tragedy strikes or the cycle starts again. I am not sure if I can go through that again. Waltz will not remember marrying me. When I see his eyes next, I am certain that all I will see in them is his pain and hope as he wishes that against all the odds that I remember him.

 _How ironic. I will be feeling the exact same way._

"Is that your poor answer?" I ask. "You were in love with Ophelia, so you would burn your kingdom to save her? I know that the throne carries hard decisions, but what about all of the people that would not have been killed had the war been shorter, or had never started to begin with?"

"I said that I did not have a good answer," he admits. "And sometimes in life you make hard choices and have to live with the consequences." Then his eyebrows raise. "Wait…you care about the lives lost due to my decisions?"

"They were your people," I tell him. "And you had…have…a responsibility to them. The same responsibility I will have one day. I do not take my duty lightly. A gardener cannot neglect, stomp, and merely exploit her garden and expect it to be fruitful. It must be tended to bear fruit."

My father actually smiles at me, and I think he is relieved. My mother had considered her subjects only useful for exploitation, and never considered that she might have a duty to them. As a monarch, I might by more like him than like my mother, and that lifts a great weight off of his shoulders. "You are right, Lucette; a ruler must serve his or her subjects. I just hope that your choices will be easier than mine were."

"You speak as if your hard choices were over with," I say dryly. "Do not become complacent; complacency has ended more monarchs than any other error." And I think I know why he never investigated Jurien and Garlan's report concerning Sir Alcaster…he had grown complacent, trusting. He thought that the greatest battle he had to fight concerned my mother, and after her defeat, he became careless.

His victory made him vulnerable.

I am silent for a moment. "So…where does this leave me? You hate witches and I…am a witch. You've known this…. Is this why you never bothered with me?" I ask, quietly. "Is this why you never tried to comfort me when Mother died? Were you off celebrating instead of comforting your half-witch, grieving daughter?"

"Lucette, I…" there are tears in my father's eyes, now. "I failed you then. I was trying to put my kingdom back together after the war, trying to search for the woman I loved when I was finally able to do so, but I failed you when you needed me the most. Your mother kept me away from you when she was alive, threatened that she would remove you if I ever…" he trails off. "When I did try, you were cold, and everything I did seemed too little, too late."

"You…don't hate me?" I ask. "Even with…this?" I ask, as sparks fly from my fingertips again.

My father shakes his head. "I've always loved you Lucette. I'm just terrible at showing it."

I cannot stop tears from welling in my eyes, and I throw myself into his arms for a hug that my now thoroughly shocked father returns. "I'll say you are," I agree with him. "And…I love you too, Father. I guess I'm even worse at showing that than you are."

He makes a sound that might be a laugh, but when I pull away there are still tears in his eyes. "I guess we deserve each other, then."

"Quite possibly," I admit, deeply grieved that I had made myself unreachable to him for so long. He gives a small jolt, and I realize that I have now literally shocked him, so I let him go and back up a step so it doesn't happen again. His expression does not change; he does not seem to care in the slightest that I have literally shocked him. "Now, about this magic. I probably need a tutor before I burn the palace down by accident." It appears to be happening more when I am upset, angry…or sad. I need to remain calm.

He grimaces. "Yes…that…looks like some form of mild lightning."

"Does Rod's fairy, the one that gave him the talking stuffed rabbit, know any uncorrupted witches?" I ask, innocently. I need to get to the Marchen as soon as I can. If this keeps happening, Myth will figure it out soon.

"That…might be the best chance," my father admits.

"I might have to board at her home," I say, as if thinking out loud. "I don't really know if there are special facilities or room requirements for magical education. And I don't want to accidently burn the palace down…or fry anyone."

My father sighs. He was hoping to keep me in the palace with a tutor, especially now that he has been able to tell me at least some of the truth and I have not blown up about it. On the other hand, he has to worry about everyone's safety. He knows that I will likely end up as powerful as my mother, and a witch of that caliber learning to stretch her wings could cause collateral damage. "That…might be best."

"I suppose my tutor will need paying, for both services rendered and my room and board," I muse. If I am paying, there will be no excuse for me to have to sweep floors. _And let's face it…Parfait is usually broke. She needs the gold._ "I suppose the most convenient thing is to just have Rod lead me to his fairy when we go into town today."

"I will miss you," he tells me.

 _The staff won't…but I am happy that for once, you will be able to miss me._ "You might be able to visit me," I tell him. "I'll find out when I get there. And…I will miss you as well."

"Do you need anything from your room?" my father asks me.

"No…I have my favorite doll in my pocket," I tell him. "I would rather not be seen packing, and the gold should see to my needs well enough. Witches are still despised, and if it was noticed that I was leaving to train with one…."

I trail off, and my father nods, understanding. It might put both myself and my tutor in danger.

"In fact, please don't even tell anyone in the palace, except for maybe Rod who I need to find that fairy, what is going on," I tell him. "Not even your advisors…not until Rod comes back without me. The walls have ears."

"Will you be taking Fritz with you?" he asks.

And I cannot tell my father that Fritz might be cursed already, and dangerous. But perhaps…if he cannot see the Marchen for what it is, it would show that he is not cursed yet. If he is already cursed, someone could erase his memory of the last few hours and put him somewhere far from the Marchen so he cannot find me. I brighten at the possibility that if Fritz is not cursed yet, he may never be if I can keep him where it is safe. Or maybe…maybe if the Tenebrarum has accepted me, I could figure out how to break the curse myself if he has already been cursed.

"I'll give him the option," I tell my father. "I'll ask him once we get inside the carriage."

When we part I head to the front door to await the carriage, and my father walks toward the treasury. I take the side corridors myself, hoping to avoid both Myth and Alcaster, which I manage to do. Instead, I think of what Delora might be pondering, hidden safely in my pocket still in her doll form.

She knows that she cannot proceed with the original plan of cursing me to force me to perform good works. However, I am headed right for Parfait's keeping anyway. And I am going to find out that she was my doll, spying on me. I wonder what kind of excuse she'll attempt to use. _She could always say that she was waiting to see if my magic would manifest…and then get to me before the evil witches could. Maybe I should offer it to her as an excuse. I'll have to act mad at her, if she tells me the truth._

Even more importantly, in her eyes, I am showing signs of kindness in my shock at being able to use magic. A curse might not be necessary, which is a good thing because since I can now use magic cursing me has become impossible. And then there is the other, perhaps more pressing problem. I should not be able to use magic yet. What is different now, and why? My lips compress as I reach one potential theory. _Has the Tenebrarum become unstable…and in need of a Bearer immediately?_

If so, this will be a battle unlike the ones I have fought so far. What if it expels my mother, and she is still alive? I shiver at the thought.

….

 _Author's note: Thanks to all of you that have left me reviews! I reply to the ones left by people that are signed in, and try to answer specific questions if I can do so without giving away any significant spoilers! Someone that was not signed in did ask if Waltz and Lucette are still married since the word of a witch is binding, and the answer is yes they are! You'll have to keep reading to find out the ramifications of that._

 _In the meantime, have fun, and please continue to read and review! :D_


	24. Returning Home

**Chapter 24. Returning Home**

I arrive at the front door, collect a light cloak from the maid waiting by the entrance, and go outside to sit on the bench beside where the carriages pull up while I wait. I calculate that it is a good ten minutes before the appointed time. Fritz arrives next, and his eyebrows rise. He did not expect me to arrive here first, before him. He knows that I was not looking forward to this trip. My father originally had to order me to come at all.

"Princess," he says, giving me a bow. "You look…preoccupied."

"That's because I am preoccupied," I answer, my mind still racing. What had happened to cause this change?

He is silent for a moment, and when I do not elaborate, he continues. "You know, I haven't seen you smile once since I met you."

"It…has been a long time," I admit, implying that I have smiled before. And in a way it is true…last night is about six months away. It is but one of the many half-truths that have been issuing from my mouth for years. They are necessary, but the burden of them seems to be growing for some reason. _What I wouldn't give to be able to be completely honest with everyone._

"I do hope to see you smile one day, Princess," he replies.

 _Are you sure about that?_ I merely sigh.

"It won't be that bad," Fritz tells me, probably thinking that I am dreading a little trip into town instead of the potential destruction that could occur from my psychopath of a mother getting loose, the Tenebrarum being unstable—which could kill me, or the endless cycling I have been doing for years—which I am beginning to think may drive me insane if it keeps up much longer. "The townsfolk are good people."

"I didn't get that feeling four years ago," I say, allowing myself to be distracted from thoughts of possible imminent destruction that I can do nothing about at this very moment.

"Times change, people change," he insists.

"Yes…change happens," I muse. "Sometimes, so much so, you no longer have even footing…or even know who you are."

"It doesn't matter, Lucette," I hear, and then turn around to find Emelaigne standing behind me. Fritz notices her, and gives her a bow as well which she acknowledges with a smile.

"I…would rather talk about it once we are in the carriage," I tell her, and my stepsister nods.

"Talk about what?" Fritz asks, confused, but he is starting to look very concerned. He can tell that I am upset; he knows my tells perhaps better than anyone. He must be starting to realize that I am not merely upset about a trip into town…that something else is going on. And then I realize just how good of a thespian I have really become, when I bother to put on my act. Last time, I even fooled _Fritz_ into thinking I had become a corrupted psychopath just like my mother.

"When we are in the carriage," I repeat. 

Fritz nods, still confused. Presently the carriage arrives, with several guards on horseback riding after it, and Rod shows up with his coat bulging. We all get into the carriage, and as soon as we are all sitting down Rod removes a few bags of gold from behind his coat and gives them to me to stick into my pockets. They are much larger than I expected…Father must suspect that Parfait might have to pay someone for silence, and is taking no chances with my safety. "So," Rod's bunny says for him as we exit through the palace gates, "how are you planning we give the guards the slip?"

"I was just planning on storming off, and letting you and maybe Fritz follow me, while the guards stay with Emelaigne," I say.

"What…what is going on?" Fritz asks, not knowing what I would be doing with bags of gold as if I am going on a journey, and talking about leaving my guards behind.

"I started using magic," I tell him, and my knight's mouth drops open. "I'm going to see a fairy that might be able to find me a tutor."

"But that wasn't supposed to happen until you turned eighteen!" he says.

I huff, irritated, and lightning dances up and down my arm again, making it tingle. I am starting to wonder if the Tenebrarum has to bleed off the negative energy I give it, and if I am not actively using a spell the magic is…uncontrolled. This could be dangerous; I know that I have a temper, though I now keep it much better than I once was capable of. "Did _everyone_ know that I was a witch but me?"

The other three in the carriage look at each other, and the answer is obviously 'yes.' "It doesn't matter to me," my stepsister repeats, looking determined. "I just want us to be closer, Lucette. I would like to try and be your friend."

And I know she is being sincere. "You mean exactly that, don't you?" I ask softly as the carriage sways, and she nods. "Then I misjudged you. I'm…sorry."

Fritz's and Rod's mouths drop open across from us, as neither of them has ever heard me utter an apology of any kind before. Emelaigne starts crying from her seat beside me, and when I awkwardly pat her on the back, trying to calm her, she bawls harder and throws her arms around me.

Well, this has never happened before…at least not until she found out that I had pulled off a counter-coup to save everyone last time. "Um…Emelaigne? What is wrong?" She just continues to cry.

"You…apologized to her," Rod says through his rabbit after a long moment. "She's actually very happy right now."

"So…you cry when you are happy, _and_ smile when you want to hide that you are sad? Isn't that a little backwards?" I ask, and this finally gets her to stop hugging me, and start drying her eyes with a handkerchief her brother supplies.

"How…how did you know that I smile to hide it when I am sad?" she almost hiccups.

"You are not that hard to read," I tell her, and Emelaigne turns to her brother and Fritz.

"She's right," Rod admits. "You have always been that way…though I am surprised that Lucette noticed."

"Simply because I don't remark on something does not mean that I am ignorant of it," I tell Rod, and his eyes dart away from mine. Perhaps he thinks that I am implying that I know that he hates me, that he is secretly quite happy to have me out of the palace for potentially months. Fortunately, he seems to have the grace to feel a little guilty about that, or else is simply trying to hide it from his sister. He probably had to bottle his excitement when Father told him that he was to lead me away to Parfait's keeping. And I know that he loved me, once, and it had saved his life that cycle.

I feel something surging again, and will myself to see instead of allowing the uncontrolled energy to trickle out of my arm. For a moment, the entire world changes colors. I see myself as midnight blue, Fritz and Emelaigne appear yellow, and Rod…appears yellow with some sort of dark slick coating him. For some reason, I find it truly repulsive, as if it is an aberration of what should be. "What is _that_?" I ask in disgust, swatting at it, and the dark slime vanishes as if dust blown away by the wind, and the stench of aberration vanishes as well. And then the colors fade as my vision returns to normal.

"What is what?" Rod asks, looking around as if he believes I had seen a particularly nasty spider crawling on him. But it was not Sebby the stuffed rabbit that had spoken those words…but Rod himself, in his own voice. And he freezes.

"Rod?" Emelaigne says as if unsure of what just happened herself. "Rod…did you…speak?"

"I…yes…I spoke," he starts slowly, and then brightens as if realizing the truth. "My voice is back! My curse is gone!" And now he has to hold Emelaigne as she throws her arms around _him_ , and starts crying again.

" _Oh_ ," I say. "You were cursed? You never told me. So _that's_ what that repulsive black stuff I shooed away was."

Rod turns his gaze to me now, his eyes as large as saucers. "You…you dispelled my curse. On _accident_?!" He knows that I have just given him his life back. He will not die now, or at least, he will not die from the effects of his curse. He believes that I know that he hates me, and he now owes me his life for something I did on accident…and I am sure that he hates it. Or at least, he probably will, once the shock of his curse being gone leaves. But then again…I remember him fixing me eggs once, after I saved his family. Perhaps I can get him to stop hating me, but he forgives as easily as I once did.

"Apparently so," I say. "I wonder how I did that…." And I know that I have at least some power from the Tenebrarum. I could not have dispelled that curse otherwise. Delora is probably close to panic in my pocket, or else gleefully anticipating presenting Parfait with this mess because she cannot explain it herself. Something is clearly wrong if the Tenebrarum has accepted me as its Bearer already. "So, I am a witch that can dispel curses; if I did it on accident, I presume I should be able to do so on purpose eventually. That…should please Father, at any rate." _And the cursed at the Marchen will probably swallow their bile, perhaps even try to get on good terms with me, like Karma did. I might not have a moment to myself. As long as I do not act like my mother, they might forgive whatever else in exchange for my services._

And I am not sure if I am happy or sad about that. I don't like being despised simply for who my mother was, but for people to only see my uses instead of me…. I cannot say that that does not bother me.

And I realized that Fritz is not cursed yet, since he was not covered in the black slime like Rod had been. If I can keep him out of his father's and Myth's reach, he may never be. "Fritz, did you want to come with me?" I ask.

"Of course I'll go see the fairy with you," he says. "I have an appointment with father later today, but he will understand if you need me for something else instead."

 _The 'appointment' in which he gets cursed. This happened just in time…._ "That's not what I meant," I tell him. Emelaigne is wiping her eyes again, and watching the two of us carefully. I know that she admires Fritz—she even liked him in his Varg persona when he showed up at her ball—and if I leave it could mean that he is leaving as well. I really have no choice but to confirm that particular concern. "There is a good chance I will have to leave the palace for weeks, most probably months, until I have enough control of my magic to be safe enough to come to the palace again. I'll have to live wherever my tutor resides, assuming that the fairy has an uncorrupted witch friend that is able to teach me."

"I will have to let Father know that I will be unable to fulfill my other duties and patrols, but my responsibility to you as your personal knight takes precedence so I will remain with you wherever you go. And I really don't care if this witch might only have suboptimal accommodations for me," Fritz answers. "I'm not picky about lodging or food."

"That's not exactly what I am asking you, either," I tell him, trying to be more clear. "I may not know much about how magic typically appears when it starts to manifest itself, but for it to be this blatant, I can only assume that I will be abnormally powerful. It is reasonable to assume that corrupted witches might be searching for me, and will seek to remove me from my tutor and corrupt me themselves."

Fritz turns white. He knows that he cannot let this happen.

"Fritz, I am not asking you to sleep on some witch's floor while I train. I am asking if you agree to go into hiding with me until I am powerful enough to destroy any corrupted witch that might come after me. If you are recognized in public, they might follow you to find me. If you go out of whatever boundaries my tutor sets, you will have to be in a disguise of some sort. It would be dangerous for you to contact or communicate with any of your family or friends…even your father." If he stays with me, he must agree to these terms, or risk being cursed. "It is reasonable to assume that if it is known that you are with me, the corrupted witches might be monitoring your house, or your father's communications, hoping to find me."

Fritz swallows hard. "That seems…excessive."

"For stakes like this? When a misstep could land the heir to the throne in the hands of witches that would want to corrupt her? You would risk another Great War," Rod points out. I think that, at the current time, he believes that they would not have to work that hard to corrupt me. He does not know that I have succeeded in holding off corruption for ten years. He does refrain, however, from pointing out that the only sure way to dealt with a corrupted witch is to kill her; that if I became corrupted I would need to be killed. "I agree with Lucette. We can just tell your father that Lucette started to use magic, went into hiding with a tutor to avoid evil witches, and you are fulfilling your duty by remaining with her. It is the truth, and he should understand."

 _He will smile and nod, and be absolutely furious. After all, he had been planning on offering Fritz a part in the coup, and having Myth curse Fritz if he refused._ "That is the price," I tell Fritz. "If you cannot accept it, stay with Emelaigne when Rod and I leave, or else come after me but pretend that you cannot find me to prevent the guards from looking for me immediately."

"I'm not leaving you alone, Princess!" Fritz says, and I stare at him until he sighs in defeat. "I see your point, and agree to those terms. I do have other duties, but seeing to your welfare is the most important. And I doubt my father would care if I dropped off the face of the earth for a year, anyway."

I nod. "Thank you, Fritz. I…know the two of you are not on good terms. I might not have asked, otherwise." If they had been on good terms, his father would not have asked Fritz to involve himself in the coup, or even have sent him away so it would not be an issue until the dust had settled. Of course, sending him away would be difficult without me going elsewhere as well, and Myth needs me to stay in the palace.

Fritz grimaces. "You noticed?"

"You've been my knight for three years," I answer him. "Of course I notice how people treat you." The carriage pulls to a stop, and I pull the hood of my cloak up. I pat my pockets to ensure that the box, Delora, and the gold are safely tucked inside. "Goodbye Emelaigne," I say. "Perhaps we can play cards, or take tea together another time."

Emelaigne smiles at me before I turn around to exit the carriage, get out, and then 'storm' off at a fast trot. Rod climbs out of the carriage quickly and 'comes after' me, and Fritz follows after him. As I walk, I can hear Fritz yelling at the guards to stay with my stepsister while he sees to us.

It is only several blocks later that I slow, and allow Rod to 'lead' us to the Marchen. I keep my hood up, and the sun is bright enough that I am not the only one to do so. A few people appear to recognize Rod, but no one sees my face. A few brave souls smile or wink at Rod, the prince who appears to be out with a mysterious noblewoman, and one of the knights as a chaperone or guard to keep us out of trouble.

When Rod realizes that that is what this looks like, he apparently decides to play along and offers me his arm, and I take it as we walk. "Thank you," he tells me, when there is no one nearby to hear us. It sounds as if he had to drag that out of his mouth with a rope. He still has no love for me, but considers it appropriate to at least verbalize gratitude.

I nod my head from within my cowl. "It must be a relief to use your own voice, again," I say. "Now I do not have to get you a birthday gift." Not that I've ever gotten him one before, but he would gladly take his curse being removed as opposed to something he has to unwrap, and I will have less shopping to do.

He sighs. "Not just that. The curse had other…effects."

"It's not like it would have killed you," I say, and then give him a sidelong glance.

His face is expressionless for a moment. "I…suppose that it does not matter now. I did not tell my family, but if the curse remained…one day it would have killed me." 

"Were you going to tell them if your…forgive my lack of a better word…deadline was approaching and the curse was still present?" I ask him.

"No," he answers. "I…wanted to spare them the pain."

"There would have been pain had you died," I tell him. "I don't know if they would have had less pain if they had not expected your death; you simply would have not been there to see it occur when it did. You would have stolen their chance to tell you goodbye in exchange for your not experiencing the pain of seeing them in pain. I…did not know you to be so selfish."

Rod freezes for a moment, and I have to give his arm a gentle tug to get him walking again before Fritz walks into us. "I'm not sure if that assessment is better or worse, coming from you," Rod notes. "If you would allow me to be frank, I really have never seen you be anything but selfish."

"If I were as selfish as you describe, I would be insisting on a tutor coming to the palace where I could maintain my comforts instead of going to her," I answer. And remaining in the palace would increase the odds of my mother getting loose…which would be detrimental to everyone's safety. "I am leaving my home for the sake of everyone's safety. For some reason, I have the feeling that my education will need to be…nontraditional to be safe and effective."

Rod nods as if I may have a point, and I change the subject slightly.

"I…what kind of curse could kill people if it isn't broken?" I ask.

"Mermaid's curse," he says.

"You were in love with someone," I say, implying that this is one of the tales that I managed to read before Mother burned the books. "And it was not returned?"

"No, it wasn't," he says quietly.

"That's…sad," I say. And it is. "But now you have a shot at a long life. And I'm sure that there are lots of girls in Angielle and elsewhere that would have you. Nearly every lass dreams of wedding a prince."

Rod cheeks tinge pink. He knows that princes have no lack of women willing to fall in love with them. However, this does not change that he cannot have the girl that he first wanted. "You were also nice to Emelaigne today. She…has wanted your friendship more than anything else for months."

I nod. "She is not adjusting well to palace life, is she? Or at least, she appears to be having more difficulty than you."

"She misses her friends, and prefers things to be…uncomplicated," Rod admits. "Wait…what happened to you?"

"Excuse me?" I say.

"You aren't acting anything like yourself," my stepbrother remarks.

I look around to see that there is no one near us except Fritz, who remains directly behind us, not joining in our conversation. "I woke up today, and found lightning dancing on my fingertips. Since then, my world has turned upside-down. I found out that I am a witch, my mother was a corrupted witch that murdered my grandfather and threatened to kill your mother if my father didn't make her his queen, and then conducted a war. I also found out that not only does my father _not_ hate me, but that he loves me and is simply abysmally bad at showing it. I have to leave the familiarity of my home, and live the gods know where, to train before I kill someone on accident while hiding from forces that would seek to corrupt me.

"And you ask why I am not behaving _normally_?" I finish.

I hear Fritz snort a laugh from behind us, but Rod frowns. "I…did not know that that was why your father married her." He is silent for longer, possibly contemplating that my father's love for his mother is what allowed the Great War to happen…or at least, had contributed to it. There were many factors involved, each one building up to lead to war. "And you thought your father hated you?"

"I'm assuming that your mother tried to comfort you when your own father died," I say, and a muscle in Rod's cheek twinges. "Mine did no such thing when my mother died, and cannot use the excuse that he was grieving himself. Whatever she was, however much Father may have hated my mother, I took the fact that he did not try to comfort me, or even interact with me for months, as evidence that he hated me."

"That…I never expected that was why you…." Rod shakes his head. He knows that he would have thought and done the same thing, himself. He is nearly as unforgiving as I ever was. "People make mistakes."

"Yes, we all do," I agree. I look up, and see that we are approaching the Marchen. "Sometimes there are chances to rectify them, sometimes there are not."

"We'll go in the back way," Rod says, probably hoping to avoid the common room.

"Your fairy lives in that dusty, decrepit shack Your Highness?" Fritz asks as we walk around the Marchen to the back entrance.

"Does it look decrepit to you, Fritz?" I ask, letting go of Rod's arm as we are just about to enter. And I am so glad that Fritz isn't cursed.

"It does to everyone that doesn't have magic, or isn't cursed," Rod admits, and he walks through the back and leads me up the back stairs. "It's to keep…uninvited people out."

As I go up the stairs, I allow myself to begin to relax. I am safe here.

I am home.

And in spite of that, I still feel like something is about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

…..


	25. Impossibilities

**Chapter 25. Impossibilities**

When we get upstairs to where the living quarters and private dining area are, we find Jurien relaxing in one of the chairs in the small common area the borders share. "Your Highness," she says, getting up.

"We need to see Parfait. Now, if you please, in the private dining room," Rod says.

Her eyebrows raise. "Your Highness, your curse is gone!" she says with a smile. And then her eyes land on Fritz and myself. "Sir Fritzgerald? Why did you bring him here?" she asks, suspicious. Then, I pull back my hood, allowing her to see my face, and her mouth drops open. I have walked her of my own free will, I am not wearing rags, and she can remember me; I am clearly not cursed.

"Please tell Parfait that my stepsister started using magic, that she dispelled my curse, and that we want to see her now," Rod says.

Jurien's eyes widen even further, and she scrambles off to find Parfait so shocked she forgets to bow, while Rod leads us to the empty private dining area. I pick a chair at the long table and sit down while we wait. Rod takes one across from me while Fritz elects to stand. It is only proper protocol that Fritz stand while Rod and I sit, though if Fritz does stay here with me I will have to tell him to relax his etiquette in such things.

"I thought that Lady Jurien had left Angielle. Do you know what is she doing here, Your Highness?" Fritz asks us.

"Why did you think that she had left?" I reply, even though the question had been directed at Rod.

"I was told that she and Sir Garlan left Angielle and the Order on their own initiative," Fritz answers.

"Then, you were lied to," I tell him. "They brought a negative report concerning your father to the king. Father did not believe them, and your father expelled them from the Order. They were banished from the palace."

Fritz looks shocked. "Was there any truth to the report?" he asks.

"Let's just say that you are a much better man than your father is, Fritz," I tell him, and Fritz's mouth twists as he takes my meaning. "I would not be surprised to find Sir Garlan here as well, nor would I be shocked if they both treat you with suspicion simply for being your father's son. But then, I have similar problems myself."

The door opens and Parfait walks through, shutting it behind her, effectively ending that conversation. "Prince Rod," she says, smiling. "How nice it is to see you." Her eyes wander to me, taking in Fritz as if he was merely an extension of me. Her gaze wanders around the room for a moment as if she was also expecting someone else. "And Princess Lucette, with her knight as well. How delightful. My name is Parfait. Jurien said…."

"She broke my curse on accident," Rod says.

" _And I'm feeling a little useless now_ ," Sebby, the rabbit, speaks up from Rod's shoulder.

Parfait silently takes the chair at the head of the table. "I…see," she says quietly after a few moments. "That…should not be possible."

I feel a flash of annoyance, and that faint lightning starts dancing up and down my arms again, so I hold them up for the fairy to see. "Is this supposed to be impossible too?" I ask.

"Yes," Parfait admits. "But…I…obviously, the impossible is happening anyway."

"Do you know of an uncorrupted witch that could teach me before this lack of control starts setting things on fire?" I ask.

"Yes," she answers, slowly. "Two witches, both friends of mine, normally reside here at the Marchen…this inn. One of which is cursed himself, so his magic is…limited. Delora, the other, has been out on assignment for some time, but can easily be contacted to return here."

My eyes narrow. "Delora," I say. "Was she on assignment to watch me?"

"Well, yes," Parfait admits.

"As a doll, perhaps?" I ask. When Parfait nods, I sigh and shake my head. "How is this for ironic, gentlemen?" I say, addressing Rod and Fritz. "I walk all over town to find a tutor, and then discover her riding in my pocket." Then I pull Delora out of my pocket, and place her on the table.

She comes to life, still doll sized, and Fritz and I stare at her. "You have had quite a day, haven't you, Princess?" she says, walking to sit on the edge of the table. When she does, she becomes a life sized version of the beautiful, raven haired, porcelain doll.

"I suppose I have," I admit, as if a doll turning into my new master doesn't surprise me at all. Everyone would believe me in shock at this point.

Delora smiles at me. "Oh, we are going to have so much fun, Princess," she tells me, eyes twinkling.

"Delora, are you sure…" Parfait starts.

"Oh, yes," Delora tells her friend, kicking a crossed leg up and down as if energetic or excited. "This is the best option we have. I'm sure you have room here for both the Princess and her knight. I don't know what use you might make of him, but he has already agreed to behave himself. We can't let the corrupted witches use him to track down the Princess, after all."

"That…is a legitimate concern," Parfait notes.

"Why do I get the feeling that my new instructor is sarcasm made flesh?" I moan.

Rod only grins, but both Parfait and Delora laugh. "See what a bright young lady she is?" Delora says. "To know me so well already."

"If I could put up with Mother's lessons, I can put up with yours," I tell her, as if taking up the challenge working with her will bring me.

Delora and Parfait's smiles drop. "She knows, Parfait," Delora says, serious, her smile gone. "The basics of who and what her mother was, at least."

"I see," Parfait says, and then turns to me. "When you feel up to it, if you want to learn more about what happened to change your mother into what she was, you can ask Delora or myself."

"I really don't think I could take any more unpleasant surprises today, if you please," I answer, as if I am in something of a daze. Something in Parfait's eyes tells me that there is something else she needs to tell me, but she keeps her silence, and I continue. It is something that can wait for now. "If you want to surprise me again, it better be something good."

Just then, as if on cue, there is a knock on the door. "Parfait, I heard that…" and I recognize my husband's voice…or rather, the voice he had as a child and in his cursed form. It occurs to me to wonder if Waltz saw me running from the carriage on the way to perform his magic act, and followed us to the Marchen.

"Oh, come in," Delora says, and Waltz comes through the door, and his eyes land on me as if there is no one else in the room.

"Princess?" he says, nervous with red eyes wide as if hoping against hope that I will recognize him. This is what I knew would be in his eyes when I saw him, my own pain and hope reflected. And I do not have the heart to pretend that I do not know him. He is a part of me; I could sooner deny recognizing my own reflection in the mirror.

"Wait…" I say. "That couldn't be…but why not? It would be only about the twelfth impossible thing to happen today."

"What couldn't be?" Parfait asks me, her eyes darting between the two of us with a small frown as if something is confusing her. But then, any number of things happening now could be responsible for that. Though I do have to admit to myself…I would find her expression hilarious if circumstances were less serious. I've _never_ seen her perplexed like this before.

"I had a friend…I think I had one…that look like him when I was a child, but he was older," I answer, and Waltz's face lights up. "I only remember some things, there are holes in my memory, but this boy named Waltz use to come into my room and play puppets with me, and made lilies appear from thin air. He said he would teach me that trick, one day."

"And I told you I would teach you how to make lilies appear on your birthday!" Waltz exclaims. "Lucette, you remembered me!"

"But you should be grown up by now, you were older than me…you were older than this when I knew you!" I say, as if confused. "Why…."

"I was cursed," he explains. "As long as it is in effect, I have to remain as a boy."

"I wish that was not so," I say. "I…I think that the last time I remember smiling; I was with you." _It was last night…when I was in your arms. I had never been happier._

From behind me, I hear a sudden intake of breath from Fritz, and I remember him telling me that he would like to see me smile. Waltz, however, has a different take on that statement. "Princess," he asks sadly, "it's been _four years_ since you smiled?"

"I think so," I say, with a small frown of my own, not wanting to reveal the entire truth at this time. Though in a way, it is as if all of my pasts never happened. "There has been precious little worthy of smiling at."

"Waltz is the other witch I was speaking of," Parfait tells me, still looking as if her mind is unsettled. "The one with the curse that limits his magic. I am sure that he would love to spend more time with you, but he could do little teaching in his condition. Though, if you manage to remember how you broke your stepbrother's curse and break Waltz's the same way, he would be more than happy to help Delora train you. He would also be capable of teaching you more…potent…spells that Delora is not powerful enough to cast."

"Speaking of teaching," I say, rummaging in my pockets, "I have gold to cover those services, as well as room and board for myself and Fritz." I put the very plump bags of gold on the table, and push them toward Parfait. "You can keep that in an account, and simply deduct whatever seems fair to you." I act as if I do not know what they are worth, when I suspect it might be more than enough to purchase a nice house. My father has been very generous.

"Princess, I…" Parfait tries to say, shocked.

"I am not a beggar, or a fugitive, that needs to accept charity. I know that it will cost you something to keep us here, and it is only fair that my instructors be compensated for their time as well," I answer. "And we shall need a few things. Fritz and I only brought the clothes on our backs." And Fritz has his sword, I suppose. It is so much a part of him, that I'm really not sure if I ever noted if he was wearing it or not this morning. On the other hand, I cannot think he would leave it behind when he knew there might be even a slim chance that he would have to protect me in town.

"Take the gold," Delora tells her friend. "I'm sure that you've probably gone broke helping everyone else again, while I was gone."

Parfait sighs. "I've been told that suffocating beneath my debts will be what kills me. Very well, Princess. This will more than afford the two of you your keep, and free Delora from other duties so she is able to teach you. Rooms three and twelve are currently empty."

"Waltz will show you where they are," Delora says, looking at Waltz, "and will make a list of anything you will need. Be through, and I will call you down when it is time for lunch." She looks very pointedly at Waltz at the last, and I interpret this as, 'Waltz, keep them out of the common room why we explain this to everyone, and that we are not going with the original plan. I would rather they not find out about it.'

"You are welcome to stay with us for lunch," Parfait says to Rod. "Perhaps you would like to come down with us?"

I interpret that as, 'Let's go show everyone that your stepsister uncursed you. It might make them more amiable.'

Rod leaves with Parfait and Delora, and Fritz and I follow Waltz out of the room. He first leads us to room twelve, and opens the door. "This will be yours, Sir Fritzgerald," he says.

"Just 'Fritz' is fine with me," he says, and goes in to look around. It is slightly smaller than my own room, but the view shows the forest instead of the street. And then I realize that this is normally Rumple's room…but he is not here yet. It occurs to me that Fritz might have the amnesic Casanova as a roommate, if there are no other empty rooms. _It is much better than some witch's couch or floor, which is probably what he was expecting._ I wait outside in the hallway while Waltz scribbles a list of the toiletries and other things that Fritz will need, and Fritz sticks with the bare necessities. It's not like Fritz can shave with his sword, after all.

And it occurs to me to wonder what Fritz can do around here to keep from getting bored. I will have my lessons, but he will go crazy if he has nothing to do all day. Hopefully, he can become on good terms with the other knights and practice with them at least. If he were anyone but Sir Alcaster's son…but maybe Karma could aid that. Karma typically starts out by trying to get on my good side, so he would be easy to convince. After all, it would please me if my knight were properly exercised; Fritz's muscles will do him no good if they turn to flab for lack of use.

"And here is your room, Princess," Waltz tells me, leading me into the bedroom I have occupied for perhaps a decade. I look around and note the location of the objects within, and take a quick look out of my window into the street. "So…what do you need?" Waltz asks, placing the list he had started on the table so he can scribble down things for me. "It looks like Fritz didn't have the chance to grab anything."

"I really didn't give him the chance. I just told him that he could come with me, or not," I say, sitting on the bed as if testing the mattress. I still miss my soft bed from the palace. "I did know that I was probably leaving home when I left my room this morning, but I only took my favorite doll and a box my mother told me to keep an eye on. And the doll turned into Delora." From the door out into the hall, I can see Fritz slowly shaking his head. Dolls do not turn into tutors every day.

Waltz nods. "Then you'll be needing a change of clothes, nightwear, combs…what box?" he asks, suddenly wary.

 _Perfect._

"I assumed that if my mother thought it important, it might be magical and my tutor could tell me about it," I say, digging into my pocket for it. "She told me not to open it, and I was wondering if it might be dangerous." I pull out the fancy box with the wings, and show it to him. I hear a noise by the door, as if someone else has walked up, but I ignore it.

"It's…it's…Neverland," he says, his red eyes growing wide as he looks at the box in my hand. "It's half of what I need to break my curse! You…said she said not to open it? Do you have the key as well?" He sounds so hopeful it is almost painful.

"She was the one who cursed you, wasn't she," I ask quietly as if I consider this unforgivable, and Waltz nods. I remove the necklace that still has the key hanging off of it, and hold it out to him in one hand with the box in the other.

He takes the key and the box, takes a deep breath, and puts the key into the lock and turns it. Then, there is a flash of light, and Waltz appears his normal size and stature, now his real age, and wears an infectious smile that could light up the palace by itself. "Lucette…you did it! Thank you!"

Waltz then hugs me, picks me up, and spins me around. As the room blurs, I think I see Rod gaping at us from the door and Fritz pinching himself to ensure that he is awake even as he stares at me. Then, I realize that I am smiling back at Waltz.

Fritz has finally had his wish to see me smile fulfilled, but I am certain that this is not how he had imagined it would happen.

…

Apparently, Rod had been sent to tell us that lunch was ready in the common room, but he quickly runs back downstairs to tell everyone that now I have broken Waltz's curse…though that one was broken conventionally. It's probably best if everyone doesn't try to mob me thinking that I have remembered how to dispel curses the way the Bearer would.

When I do make it downstairs, the common room is deathly quiet for a moment, as if a herd of sheep is unsure if a newcomer is there for wool or meat, but conversation slowly picks up again, the whispering much more furious than I have ever seen it. I see Delora beckoning us toward one of the larger, empty tables, and I sit down with Fritz and Rod taking the chairs on either side of me. Fritz tries to offer a bow first, but I tell him that formality serves very little purpose here. Waltz is mobbed by a chattering group and has to accept the congratulations of more than half of the people in the common room before he can even get to the table.

"Waltz seems very popular here," Fritz remarks to Delora, and she nods.

"There is always celebrating when someone manages to break their curse, and Waltz is well liked, and perhaps deserved his curse least. Save but for his actions, the corrupted witches might have won the Great War," the witch answers.

This makes Waltz a genuine war hero, something that Fritz cannot currently claim for himself even as a knight. So far, Fritz's roles have been mostly…ceremonial. If I remember correctly, at this point the most dangerous thing he may have done was retrieve a snake from the dining room. This is nothing in comparison to ending the reign of a corrupted witch queen and saving the entire kingdom from her. And I wish that Fritz could remember the last cycle, if only so he would realize the debt I truly owe him.

"Is Parfait not eating lunch?" I ask Delora, as I look around but do not see the fairy.

Delora looks like she is trying very hard not to smirk. "She…has a headache, and decided to go lie down."

 _In other words, Parfait has no idea what in the world is going on either, is upstairs racking her brains, and Delora is taking some amount of perverse delight in that._ It's just like Delora's sense of humor. The know-it-all fairy has finally been stumped, and is in her room right now consulting very old books trying to figure out which way is 'up.' _And I may as well admit it…my sense of humor is not so different from Delora's._

"Would you care to tell us a little about this place?" I ask the witch to try to distract myself, as I struggle with the same smirk as Delora. "Fritz and I saw different images of it before coming in."

"This inn and tavern is…a sanctuary of sorts for the cursed," Delora says. "It is hidden from evil witches, only seen by the cursed and those with magic, or else a few given special exemption."

"And that is why I could not see this place for what it was at first?" Fritz asks, and Delora nods.

"Yes, and when things suddenly looked 'normal' was when Parfait gave you exemption," Delora answers. "A few others are not cursed but allowed in, as well. Like Jurien and Garlan over there in the corner," she says as she nods to where I see the two former knights staring suspiciously at Fritz. "And our cook, Annice…who I believe you own an apology to, Princess."

Just then, Annice comes up with a tray in her hand, and her eyes widen at the sight of me. She _had_ to know that I was here, with all the ruckus in the common room.

"But wasn't she the one that tore your dress?" I ask Delora.

Delora shakes her head. "No, a bird did that. She just made sure that the winged monster didn't make off with me."

"Really," I say, looking over at Annice, who is setting the tray on the table. "Well then, you have my regrets for my getting you fired because I thought you were clumsy. And I am sure Delora appreciated not getting carried off by a bird."

"Th…thank you, Your Highness," Annice stammers, as she goes off to get the next tray.

Rod looks at me and shakes his head. "That makes it _two_ apologies in one day. The world must be ending."

 _It's not ending…just going around and around again. I almost wish that it_ would _simply end._ "Gods, what do you think of me?" I mutter just loud enough that my stepbrother can hear, and he flinches before I continue in a louder tone. "If she didn't deserve it, she didn't deserve it. Besides, only and idiot would think being on poor terms with the cook a good idea." After all, who knows what an angry cook might put in your food…especially one familiar with medicinal herbs. Even my mother said that you could only punish a cook once…and then they had to be dismissed.

As we are starting lunch, I hear, "May I?" I nod, recognizing the voice. Karma pulls out a chair—dressed as a beautiful, redheaded woman—and sits next to Fritz. I had been wondering how long it would take him to show up. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Karma. I understand that Her Highness is here for magic lessons, no?" he asks me with a smile.

"That…is correct," I tell him, wondering what his angle will be this time.

And then he turns to Fritz. "And what, pray tell, is the princess's knight doing while his charge is learning to shoot lightning from her fingertips and transform things?"

"I…really have no idea, my lady," Fritz says carefully, as if wondering if Karma is attempting to flirt with him. He almost looks a little flattered, though. After all, Karma is the very picture of a beautiful woman, and any man would be flattered that he had attracted such attention even if his own intentions were already directed elsewhere.

"Actually," Waltz says with a grin as he finally sits down at the table, "Karma is a man. He just…dresses as a woman most of the time due to his own curse."

I sigh. "Why not? After today, I wouldn't bat an eyelash if he turned out to be a prince in disguise."

Karma's smile seems a little forced for a moment before he recovers, as I have said _exactly_ what he is. I don't find myself as amused as the first time I said something similar, but it is still somewhat humorous. "Of course, the Princess has had a trying day," he answers before turning back to Fritz. "I merely wished to mention that the knights and I train with the sword during most evenings, and I would welcome you joining us."

And I understand that Karma is trying to get into my good graces by befriending my knight, since I appear to be on good enough terms with Fritz to have brought him with me. This makes sense because there is nothing else that he can currently offer me himself. After all, I am here for magic lessons instead of here as a pariah sitting by myself trying to break my own curse. However, this might be useful. Hanging around Karma could keep Fritz out of trouble. Or at least, he would probably get into less trouble with Karma than he might otherwise get into on his own.

"I…am not sure that Lady Jurien and Sir Garlan might welcome me, from what the princess has said transpired between them and my father," Fritz says slowly.

"If they do not, I shall require it for my continuance of their education," Karma insists.

"… _You_ are teaching _them_?" Fritz asks, appearing a bit confused. After all, Jurien and Garlan had been two of the best knights in the Order.

"You should go," I tell Fritz. "You'll go insane if you don't get some exercise. And if Karma is good enough to teach Jurien and Garlan, you could be sparring with an equal."

Fritz's eyes brighten, and I know he is convinced. He has gotten good enough that his only true equal is his own father, who simply does not have the time to spar. He's really too busy trying to organized everything he can to overthrow the king to play with his son.

And I have to wonder how my actions will alter Alcaster's, or even Myth's plans. Perhaps Alcaster will not try to put himself on the throne while I live. He could still depose my father, but to take the throne himself would be a direct challenge to the rightful heir, the witch and Crown Princess. He would either have to act now and kill me before my powers develop, or else wait until I return to the palace to see what kind of a witch I become. If the Tenebrarum corrupts me, he could offer his aid to help me depose my father, and if I am too benevolent he could try sticking a sword in me and then seizing the throne. But I know that if he does not see me as a potential ally, he will see me as a certain enemy. Will he bide his time, or try to destroy both me and my father?

Myth…is harder to predict. I know he will be looking desperately for me. He will want me to free my Mother, but more importantly, is the Tenebrarum visibly unstable? If it is, there is no telling what he might do to attempt to stabilize it…if there is even anything that can be done. And as soon as Rod returns to the palace, able to speak but without a lover, he will know that something is seriously wrong; he will realize that the Tenebrarum has accepted a new Bearer. He might even follow Rod a while to confirm that my stepbrother had found a lover or not, perhaps even if he overhears Rod telling my family that I was responsible for breaking the curse, but he will eventually see the truth.

I half wish I could see the Tenebrarum myself, so I could see if anything is visibly wrong with it. A nagging voice in my mind says that there is, and for some reason when I picture it in my mind's eye, it appears so riddled with cracks it looks more like snow and cracked ice encasing my mother instead of crystal.

….


	26. A Torrent

**Chapter 26. A Torrent**

Compared to the rest of the day, the afternoon and evening are relatively uneventful. Rod went back to the palace directly after lunch. I can just see the conversation at home, after everyone is done squealing over Rod's curse being broken.

" _So, what did your sister think when she met her new teacher?" Father asks._

" _You're not going to believe me," Rod answers. "She did something she never does."_

" _What?"_

" _It wasn't that she smiled…it was that she didn't_ stop _," Rod answers. "It's apparently some old friend of hers, named Waltz. She uncursed him, too."_

I think Father will rest easier, knowing that Waltz is going to be one of my teachers. In contrast, I expect Myth will be quaking in his boots if he hears anything of the sort.I'm sure he thinks that the fairies and the 'traitor' will be a negative influence on me. I expect the street thugs and corrupted witches will have orders to look for me within two days.

And it occurs to me to wonder how my father never noticed people looking for his 'nonexistent' daughter before the coup, and I can only guess that Myth handles the kingdom's intelligence gathering in addition to his political duties. Only the intelligence minister could suppress the information the king receives.

In the afternoon, Delora starts my lessons while Jurien and Waltz go out to get the things Fritz and I will need. I do not mention that I am sure they already have everything I need, because they were already expecting me.

For the first lesson, Delora teaches me merely how to call and dismiss my magic. "But what happens when it comes by itself?" I ask.

"That…should not happen often," Delora says. "Or at any rate, it should lessen when you gain more conscious control."

"But it's been happening all day," I tell her. "Especially when I'm upset or sad about something. It just…goes off, and lightning just starts dancing on my arms. I gave my father a mild shock, earlier today. I've been trying to stay calm, and it doesn't happen when I am."

Delora's eyes widen, briefly, and she looks worried. She knows I have a temper. "In light of that," she starts slowly, "it might be safer if Waltz or I were with you at all times. If you get stronger, uncontrolled energy if you get very upset, you could hurt someone if one of us isn't around to cast a shield."

I sigh. I won't be let into town at all with this. It's very difficult to hide lightning. "Fine," I agree. On the other hand, this will mean that I will be spending a _lot_ of time with Waltz. Naturally, I find this a pleasant prospect. "I'd really rather not kill anyone."

"Your other choice," she continues, "is to bleed that energy off, into a spell, instead of letting it go wildly."

"I…think that is how I broke Rod's curse earlier today," I say. "I felt the energy starting that time, and I decided that I wanted to see. All of the colors changed, and I saw something black covering Rod. I…shooed it away?"

"If you could gain conscious control of that," Delora tells me, "there are a lot of people here that could use that type of help."

"I suppose so," I say, softly. "And I assume that they would stop despising me if I helped them?"

She shifts uncomfortably. "I wouldn't really say…."

"There's no use in denying it, Delora," I tell her. "I am not a fool. It's not because I am a witch; Waltz is liked, and you are respected. I have never done anything to them…well, perhaps with the exception of Annice…but I am judged simply for being my mother's daughter."

"I'm not saying that it is right," she tells me. "Most of them are very uncomfortable that their last hope wears the face of an old enemy."

"Fine," I say, getting irritated and unbidden magic travels up and down my arm again. I hate having to prove that I am not a monster again, and again, and again, and again…. "So, show me a spell I can use this for before I burn the inn down."

Delora teaches me how to bleed the energy into the air, where she thinks it will do no more damage than to raise the hair on anyone within about a ten-foot radius of me if I give it no direction, or perhaps make it rain a little bit if I put it in the air outside. She does warn me not to bleed it into the ground, and says with a twinkle in her eyes that that could cause earthquakes if strong enough.

Right. Earthquakes. As if the trickle of magic I am using could cause earthquakes.

That night I crawl into bed at the end of a very, very long day. I lie there waiting for sleep to come, only to find my mind is still spinning too fast to surrender to dreams. I am not cursed, Fritz is not cursed, and I am spending this midnight in my room in the Marchen instead of in my bedroom in the palace with Delora popping up to 'gift' me with the Cinderella necklace. Instead, today I wore a necklace with Waltz's key.

My eyes drift toward the table where the open box, the necklace, and the key still lie. Waltz was simply too excited to collect them. I think the box used to be a family heirloom of his. It's probably all he has left of the family my mother killed.

And my heart aches. Could I really love him again only to find everything we had together simply erased once more? What if love was what I did wrong each and every time, and the Tenebrarum is jealous of me powering the Lucis with my emotions instead of it? Can I even live that way?

If I am not allowed love…is that what corrupted my mother? Will I have to cycle again and again until I accept the destiny my mother chose for herself?

If so…I do not want that corruption any more than I want this cycle to continue. And I cannot escape the fact that I am still in love with Waltz. I am certain that my husband is the one man I will never be able to get over, even if I wanted to. I do not have to think very hard to smell his scent, feel his lips on mine, or to see the gentle love in his eyes. This is the day after our wedding, and by all rights I should be in his arms again tonight. I feel broken without him.

Love doesn't just cause joy I realize…it also causes pain. This is why my mother has always caused me pain again and again as I cycle through. I had loved her, and maybe a part of me still feels that way to feel her betrayals so keenly. Even as I despise her, I still wish her peace from her own pain, and it rips me apart every time I feel her betrayal anew.

And my husband…. _My husband._

I know that I will never see Waltz as anything else. As opposed to my mother, I know that it is not his fault that he is not here, holding me. He simply cannot remember loving me.

But that realization does not make the pain any less.

And I start sobbing into my pillow. I feel the power billowing around me, stronger than it has before, but I cannot stop my tears. Instead, I let it bleed out of my window, high into the night sky. And it only gets stronger, and I hear rain.

I also hear footsteps, out in the hall, and my door bursts open. I turn my head away from the door, my entire body racked with sobs as I still weep into my pillow, still funneling the increasing torrent of power out of the window. Outside my window, there is not only rain now, but thunder and howling wind. Even though my eyes are closed tight, I get the sudden image of blood on ice and it is as if something snaps. I gasp through my tears as the power increases twofold all at once. It is so intense, I half wonder why I am not being swept out the window with it, and it is all I can do to direct it into the night sky instead of letting it go wildly where I somehow know it might kill everyone anywhere near me. The rain gets harder, the crashes of thunder grow more numerous, and the wind so fierce I think the inn is starting to shake. I want to be with my husband…I want there to be a future. Why have I been denied that which so many others take for granted?

I hear Parfait gasp as well, and then groan as if she is struggling with something mighty herself. "Parfait!" Waltz says, and it sounds like someone has slumped against the doorframe, but not hit the floor so I suspect she was caught midair. I can sense strong fairy magic, but I somehow know that she can't keep it up much longer…nor can I keep the little control I have over the torrent for long.

I feel pressure as if someone has sat on my bed, and I can feel a hand stroking my hair, rubbing my back. "Hush now," Delora says gently, from beside me. "Hush, Princess." And she starts to sing me a lullaby, but it is one that speaks of a peaceful meadow, and pleasant things on the spring breeze…not the one of twinkling stars that she normally sings me on this night.

Not the stars. Not the ever cursed, ever twinkling stars that signals my banishment from my childhood home, and begins my own helplessness anew. It is different this time. It _will_ be different this time. I might be able to fight back, now. Whatever else has happened, I am no longer helpless. A lost, forgotten princess might be powerless, but the Tenebrarum Bearer is not.

Eventually, my tears subside, the torrent of power diminishes, and so does the storm outside. Now numb and thoroughly exhausted, I finally surrender to sleep.

…..

The morning sun wakes me, light shining into my eyes. I groan and roll over, only to find Delora sitting in the chair beside my bed with her feet resting on the edge of the bed. She appears to be asleep, still in her robe, but when I sit up in bed her eyes open and she yawns.

"My, you are a handful," she tells me, shaking he head at me.

"That storm…was that me?" I ask slowly, as if I do not know that it was. That much power…. _I_ had _to be using the full strength of the Tenebrarum._

Delora sighs, and nods. "I'm afraid so. If it had lasted much longer, there could have been flooding. I'm simply glad I did not tell you to bleed the energy into the ground. That…would have been a significant earthquake."

"And if I had let it go wildly…it could have killed everyone?" I ask hesitantly, and when Delora nods I breathe a silent prayer of thanks that I had been able to control the torrent as much as I had. "How…how is that possible? That…was a torrent of power. I should not be so strong yet, not the very first day I start using magic."

"It's…not just your own magic that you have access to, Lucette," the witch tells me. "Do you know what a Bearer is?"

"They are the strongest witch and fairy, right? Something to do with crystals?" I say.

Delora nods. "Magic is empowered and balance regulated through the Crystallum Lucis and the Crystallum Tenebrarum. The fairy Bearer—Parfait actually—has the keeping of the Lucis and is able to draw on its power. It relies on positive emotions to give it power, like love, happiness, and joy. Its counterpart is the Crystallum Tenebrarum, which is in the keep of the witches. It is fed by negative emotions like fear, anger, and hatred. It is a necessary balance to the Lucis, but…it's Bearers are more likely to suffer corruption, and it may corrupt other witches as well.

"Princess, your mother was the last Tenebrarum Bearer, and was corrupted. It has been in hibernation for years…you should have inherited her control of it as well as access to your own magic when you turned eighteen…but something is seriously wrong."

I shiver. "And the power I funneled last night was from the Tenebrarum?" I ask, and Delora nods. "It seems…unstable." But…I do not have the feeling of foreboding that I had when I woke up yesterday. Instead of feeling like something is about to shatter at any second, I feel more as if significant repairs merely need to be done soon. It feels less dangerous, as if a flesh wound is still gaping but no longer gushing blood.

Delora's generous lips draw into a thin line. "And we do not know why it might be unstable. For it to accept you as its Bearer months before your birthday…the Tenebrarum has to be in desperate need of some kind. If it is destroyed, the Lucis will also be destroyed, and that will be the end of all magic in Angielle."

 _And the death of the current Bearers._ "If that would be the end," I ask, "where did it begin?"

Delora shrugs. "The histories say Chaos made the Tenebrarum and the witches first, simply to see what the mortals would do with them three hundred years ago. Then, Order gave the Lucis and made the first fairies to balance them. But histories are typically only written by the victors, so I cannot say with certainty. Parfait might know more."

And I am certain that the problem lies at a point higher than the crystals themselves. After all, once they were both destroyed, and the cycles still happened again. "Was that extra energy from last night there because the Tenebrarum was unstable, or because my own emotions were?"

"I…am not sure," Delora tells me. "You did note that when you experienced negative emotions, feeding the Tenebrarum, you received magic back. I have never heard of that happening before, with any other Bearer. The link you have with it must be altered somehow. When you receive power that you did not produce yourself, as you indicate does happen, that might be because the Tenebrarum is unstable and you must bleed off its extra magic. There could be some other reason…we just do not know."

I sigh. "I wish I didn't have a temper."

Delora is quiet for a moment. "Princess, it may not be as bad as all of that. Something…changed about you. I watched you for months, but the girl I see before me does not seem much like the one I saw then."

"I haven't been that girl for ten years, Delora," I say, exhausted, and her eyes widen. Maybe I should tell her, and Parfait at least. What I tell either one, the other will probably find out anyway. It would be better if it came from me directly. And Waltz…he may not remember, but that does not change the fact that he needs to know. After all, even if he cannot remember his oath to me, I remember mine to him; I am bound to him as his wife. I'm not exactly sure what he will say when I tell him, but I would want to know myself if the situation was reversed. "I've never told you this before, but…something is different this time. I may need more help."

"Ten years?" she asks. "What are you talking…."

"This is the first time you haven't given me the Cinderella Curse," I say, and her mouth drops open. "You were planning to do it last night, but I woke up yesterday using magic, and you soon realized that I was the new Tenebrarum Bearer. Now, _I_ am the only one that may curse another witch."

Her eyes are so wide now, I half wonder how she is keeping them in their sockets. "But…but even if we did warn a few others that you were going to be cursed, only Parfait and I knew which one I was going to use!"

"There isn't just something wrong with the Tenebrarum, there is something wrong with _time._ " I stop, and take a breath. "I have to wonder what my mother did when she placed herself in the Tenebrarum to keep herself alive."

And now, Delora has gone pale. "Your mother…is _alive_?!"

"Probably, but…I think that I was using the full power of the Tenebrarum last night. I don't usually get all of its strength until my mother is dead, and I think that I saw blood in fractured crystal briefly last night just before the power doubled. We should probably go check on that…the Tenebrarum is in the secret passages under the palace," I tell her, and then frown. "Whenever Parfait is up to conversation, I will explain the matter further. I…hope she did not injure herself trying to conceal where the power was coming from, last night."

Delora is silent for a moment. "There is no permanent damage, but she will probably need to rest several more hours at least. She does not have to call on the full strength of the Lucis often, and it takes a lot out of her when she must do so. She might be up to conversation, sometime after lunch."

"You should bring Waltz, as well," I say slowly. "My mother's apprentice might have information that is relevant. He was always as surprised as anyone when he finds out Mother is still alive, but there is always the possibility of something he thought irrelevant might be of import. Myth probably knows more, I am fairly sure that he does, but we would have to capture and interrogate him to find out what."

"You speak of the past, present, and future as if they are continuous or circular," Delora says carefully.

"For me, they are," I answer.

…..

"Are you…well…Princess?" Fritz asks me, sitting down at my table with his own breakfast tray, and I know that he can clearly see that I am not at my best.

"I had a rough night," I tell him, realizing that I am staring into my porridge.

Delora had not said another word to me as I dressed, and then she handed me off to Waltz while she went to go get ready for the morning herself. Now, the two of us sit at one of the tables in the common room, with Fritz just now sitting down.

"May I join you?" Karma asks, nodding to the fourth and last chair at the table, and I nod. "I would not be surprised if you did not sleep well, Princess, with that storm we had last night."

"Exactly how bad was it?" I ask, and Waltz shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

"It was…odd," Karma admits. "I was on patrol, and it had been a clear night. All of the sudden, black clouds appeared from nowhere and there was a torrential downpour with sever wind, and more lightning than I have ever seen produced by a storm. I had to take shelter to wait it out. Fortunately, it did not last long. As it was, the riverbanks were nearly full."

I sigh, and put down my spoon. "Waltz," I tell him, "you two have to teach me some spells that can use that kind of power with effects that are not as…noticeable. Otherwise, I might flood Angielle the next time there is a power surge like that."

Karma and Fritz's mouths drop open. "That…that was _you_ that made the storm?" Fritz asks, shocked. "But…you only started using magic at all yesterday!"

"I'm actually surprised that something worse did not happen," Waltz admits, wearing a worried frown.

"Tell me about it," I sigh, and then turn to Fritz. "The best way I can describe it is like trying to ride a galloping horse, knowing that you saddle is secured with sewing thread instead of leather straps. For some reason, the Tenebrarum appears to be…unstable."

"That…does not sound safe," Fritz admits. And he does not look happy about it in the least. I have a severe problem that a sword cannot solve, and he would be even more worried if he knew that the destruction of the Tenebrarum would kill me.

"I'll just have to work hard," I tell him, then I turn to Waltz. "Do I have lessons this morning?"

"Yes, but we should work on something small," Waltz tells me. "Larger, stronger spells need to be hidden by fairy magic so no one can find you. Parfait…will not be capable of that until later today."

"That was not intentional," I admit. "She's sure to have a terrible time, trying to hide me. Parfait looks somewhat frail. She could probably use a doctor's services."

"That's because she took a lot of damage during the Great War," Waltz tells me, though I already know.

"And she will have to reserve the strength she does have for my…surges. She may have to scale back on the rest of her activities in order to meet this need," I say, and Waltz nods.

"She will not like that, but she will do it," Waltz says, grimly. "She tries to protect the local populace from evil witches, and uses her power to do so. But…at this time, hiding you is her priority."

And I know that Parfait has no other choice. If the Tenebrarum is destroyed, the Lucis will be as well…and their Bearers will turn to dust while all other witches and fairies lose their powers. If the Tenebrarum has accepted me as its Bearer, and breaks…that will be the end of both me and her. She cannot let the corrupted witches interfere with our attempting to stabilize the Crystallum without allowing the Tenebrarum to corrupt me, therefore she cannot let them find me.

It does occur to me that the other witches, corrupted and uncorrupted alike, might see 'my storm' as a simple display of power, and will be considerably less active as they wait to see what I do next. Fewer people may be cursed as a result of it. I am certain that although Parfait has apparently hidden my location in spite of the power I was using, not one witch supposes that it was anyone but me that caused the storm. They know that had my mother somehow survived, she would have announced herself by taking over the kingdom. In spite of my youth, I am the only other option to have used the power of the Tenebrarum. I do not know if they will see the storm as a purposeful announcement of my power, or an accident as I try to control my newfound strength, but either way…I am now quite dangerous.

I know that if I am not seen in this light, more people will likely suffer curses, though Waltz does not tell me out loud. It would probably give Parfait some peace of mind if I started dispelling the curses of some of her patrons. The corrupt witches may curse people, but if I undo their work…. She would take short term losses for long term gains.

Especially after I tell her what is really happening…if she believes me. I'm not sure if Delora did or not, although I can think of no other explanation for me to know what I know other than I might be able to read minds.

Maybe I should wait until after Rumple arrives before I start attempting to dispel curses. The other witches might take my actions to mean that I want less cursing, and from the little I do know the witch doctor that curses Rumple does not seem corrupt. Comparatively, his curse is easy to break, and could be defined as instructional. But, if that curse does not happen then we could lose the services of an experienced doctor. Parfait will probably need him, and being cursed does him good eventually, anyway.

"Excuse me, Princess," Karma says, breaking me out of my reverie. "I could not help but notice your hands. Do you work the sword yourself?"

I let go of my spoon, leaving it in my bowl, and look at my palms. They indeed still have the callouses I earned during my last round. _I am the same physically…this has not happened before either._ And then I realized that I should have noticed this when I woke up yesterday, still sore from the…festivities…of the previous night. Come to think of it, I did notice, but was immediately panicked by the fact that Delora was on my shelf again.

"Yes," I answer, and Fritz looks at me, shocked. "I'm decently good, but not brilliant."

"When…who trained you?" Fritz asks.

"As if you didn't know," Karma says, shaking his head. I'm guessing that Karma believes that Fritz trained me, and is trying to cover it up. They _always_ assume Fritz trained me, at least until they find out otherwise.

"But I didn't..." Fritz starts.

I sigh. "And here I wanted to surprise you, Fritz," I say, "and Karma blurts it out."

"My apologies Princess," Karma says, though I am not sure if he is convinced that Fritz did not train me, or if I am helping him cover it up for some reason. "If you like, you can come to practice this evening after supper to show us what skills you have acquired, if there are no prior claims on your time?" He looks at Waltz as he asks this.

Waltz shakes his head. "No lessons set in stone for this evening. Delora or I will be with her, though." And something in his eyes tells me that he would be _very_ interested in seeing if I can indeed fight.

"Very well," I say. Well then, lessons with Waltz this morning instead of sweeping, a long discussion with Waltz, Delora, and Parfait this afternoon, and sword practice this evening with Karma and the knights.

It sounds like a full day.

Karma and Fritz finish their breakfast first, and Karma drags Fritz along with him to show him where the whetstone is in case Fritz wants to sharpen his sword. Apparently, Karma has errands to run later. For once, I know his errands today do not involve looking for me.

Waltz stays behind with me until I finally finish breakfast, simply looking at me as if he is trying to decide something. "What is it, Waltz?" I finally ask him.

"You could handle a sword in…" he trails off.

"In what?" I ask him, curious. He knows that I never picked one up as a child when he knew me before. Fritz has denied teaching me, and it would be very difficult for anyone else to have done so. The only time I have used one was during my cycles when I get Karma and Jurien to teach me. I get better every time I go through and request lessons.

"Never mind," he tells me.

But I do mind, sensing a glimmer of hope that he somehow remembers the last cycle, and what we had together.

…


	27. Accounting for the Impossible

**Chapter 27. Accounting for the Impossible**

"Lucette knows that I was intending to give her the Cinderella curse, and that Waltz and Myth were her mother's apprentices," Delora says. "She also states that she is ten years older than she should be, and that Hildyr placed herself within the Tenebrarum instead of dying when she was defeated."

We are in Parfait's room, and she is sitting up in her bed against the headboard. She is tired, but her eyes are alert and she is dressed. Waltz and I sit in chairs on one side of her bed, and Delora on the other side in her own chair. The room itself is decorated in pastel colors, and natural stained woods. I can tell that, unlike most of the generic guest rooms, this is Parfait's permanent dwelling. On one side of the room, the wall is lined with bookshelves filled with volumes of varying ages, and on the other side of the room are cupboards and what appears to be an alchemy station.

"Either I am insane, lying, or telling the truth; there are no other logical alternatives," I start. "What I say may be outlandish, but it does fit with everything you do know of fact.

"For more than ten years now, I have been reliving approximately six months of my life, over and over again. Some events during these months happen all the time, others appear to be conditional. I have tried making different choices, changing the end result, but I always wake back up in my room in the palace on the same day…the day that I was to go into town with my stepsiblings directly before the midnight that Delora curses me, and the cycle ends typically around or shortly after my eighteenth birthday. I don't know how to make it stop.

"I asked you, Parfait, two cycles ago if you had any ideas. You were unsure about my claims at first, but then when the things I predicted happened you were convinced. You told me to attempt actions that would bring balance to the two crystals, and I tried that during the last cycle. I got the best end result yet, but…here I am again," I finish.

"What kind of events always happen," Parfait asks me, "and what events are conditional?"

"With the exception of this cycle, and the last?" I ask. "Well, Delora always gives me the Cinderella curse at midnight, and I wake up in rags the next morning after having slept in the doorway of some store. If I try to get back into the palace, the guards and my father do not recognize me. I get lost in town and during the night, thieves chase me around until I run into Karma and Waltz who are looking for me. I usually faint, and then wake up in the Marchen." I go on to explain the happenings in the inn, even including the broom, asking people for 'being good' lessons, Rumple's arrival, Fritz's curse, and the like.

"Where my paths seem to diverge the most, is when I pick a partner for help with my curse," I say. I know that Waltz is sitting right beside me, but I have decided to be completely honest. "Whomever I pick to partner with becomes my romantic interest. What choices I make after that leads to either a 'happy' ending, or a 'tragic' one with tragic usually meaning there is death and destruction.

"This destruction usually comes from one of three sources, or a combination thereof. First, Sir Alcaster is plotting to remove my father from power, but you already know of his untrustworthiness if not outright treason from Jurien and Garlan. Sometimes he sits himself on the throne, but he would actually prefer me being corrupted and ruling like my mother. Myth is currently installed as my father's political advisor and is using the name 'Sir Mythros.' He also wants to overthrow my father, but wants the power of the throne to return to my mother. These two normally work together for a time, before one betrays the other, but typically long enough to dethrone my father. My mother placed herself, rather than just her power, in the Tenebrarum to keep herself alive. Normally, when I turn eighteen there is a small window in which I can place my hands on the Tenebrarum and release her. Myth does everything he can to force me to do so," I finally finish, and my gaze remains on Parfait. I believe that it is my fellow Bearer that might help me the most.

"And what did you do differently during the last cycle?" Parfait asks. "Some of the 'constant' events did not happen this time."

"For starters," I say, taking a quick glance at Waltz, "last time I released Waltz from his curse before I was cursed myself. If we go back for the box, it tends to be a trap and Myth catches us. I knew what Alcaster and Myth were planning, but used the most innocuous events connected with those events to warn the rest of you what was going to happen. I knew that even with warning, the coup would still happen. So, I tried something completely different from anything I had done before.

"I broke my curse early deliberately, and had Delora curse me again with the excuse that I had fallen in love, and did not want to return to the palace until I knew if he returned my feelings or not. That he was dragging his feet was only half of the reason. I also wanted to return to the palace before Alcaster and Myth betrayed each other to keep the victor from killing my family. If my curse necklace showed no good deeds, I thought they would be more likely to trust me and believe me when I pretended to be cruel exactly like my mother. And it worked."

"You little…" Delora almost squeals.

I shrug. "Sorry for manipulating you like that, but it had to be done. I convinced Alcaster that we could just trot out my father and have him give me the crown 'voluntarily' and avoid messy riots, and I would be a queen equal to my mother. I convinced Myth that I only desired my own power, and I would not give it to my mother by releasing her. I had given Alcaster orders to kill Myth if he proved difficult, and Myth decided that the next best thing would be for him to marry me and rule beside me himself."

" _What?_ " Waltz exclaims, as if not wanting to believe what is coming out of my mouth.

I notice that he says nothing about the previous 'romantic interests' I had presumably found in the Marchen, but Myth he vehemently objects to. And I am not surprised in the least.

"So, I promised to marry my 'mother's apprentice,' if he still lived, within the hour I turned eighteen in exchange for Myth not attempting to force me to release my mother," I continue, noting that all three sets of eyes are widening even further. They all realize that this promise could apply to two different men. "The rest of you used the wedding preparations as a vehicle to get into the palace, avoiding the secret passages—I believe that Myth usually has alarms of some kind set in the secret passages.

"I had found out how to free Fritz from his Curse, and as soon as he had done so you came into my room, Waltz," I say, looking at him. "I had hidden Fritz, and had you put a burn on the floor to make Myth think that you had killed him. Then Myth came in, and the two of you began to fight. Myth tried to pull me towards him, this distracted you, and Fritz came from behind the curtain and chopped Myth's head off before he could complete his spell."

"Then that's how you got blood on your wedding dress," Waltz says softly.

I blink, surprised, not sure if I believe my ears. One of the other women gasps, but I do not look to see which, my eyes remaining on my husband. "What?" I ask, only barely registering that I had not thought to be the surprised one in this conversation.

"Is that right, Lucette?" Waltz asks me. "You had blood on your wedding dress. Is that how it got there? It…it was _real_?"

"Yes, it was real," I say softly. "You…you remember?" I hold my breath, wondering if this is too good to be true.

He is quiet for a moment. "I…thought it was just a dream that I had two nights ago…but it was so…tangible. It was like riding in the back of my own head, but being unable to make actions of any kind."

I finally begin to breathe again, and I close my eyes for a moment—extremely grateful that he remembers—then open them to look into his eyes. "How much, exactly, do you remember?"

He takes one of my hands into his, as if to convince himself that _I_ am real…that this conversation is really happening. "The first thing…it started when we were before your father in the throne room, and there was a crowd of people watching us as we said our wedding vows. Directly after I kissed you at the end of the ceremony, Fritz, Parfait, Garlan, and Jurien brought Alcaster before your father for his judgement. You stopped to explain that there had been a silent coup, and that you and your allies had just conducted a counter-coup.

"Your father sentenced Alcaster to death by the sword, but Alcaster requested that he die by your hand instead of your father's. You…granted his request."

I nod in understanding. "This is why you remarked on the fact that I could handle a sword during breakfast when Karma pointed out my hands."

Waltz nods, and I can feel one of his fingers running along hardened skin on the palm of my hand that he holds in his. "Yes, exactly. At the time I thought it was my own dream. To have a part of reality match the dream…. Well, after the execution, your father dismissed the crowd to the ballroom for refreshments, and you and your family talked and cleared up some loose ends. Then we went to the ballroom for a dance and to make an appearance, and then we…" he trails off, his hand stiffening and his face blushing as he realizes what else was real as well, and I smile.

He clearly remembers our wedding night just as well as I do. My cheeks might be a little pink too. I clear my throat. "Well, that was the only time I tried playing Myth and Alcaster off against each other. It was also the only time I married, and one of the very few times no one but the traitors died.

"This time," I continue, "I remain in my former physical condition. For example, I retained the callouses on my hands from sword practice. I had gotten Karma to give me lessons again last time. And I started using magic directly after waking up in my room, which was new. That never happens until after I turn eighteen. The fact that Waltz remembers any part of the last cycle is different. He is the first person to tell me that he remembers anything at all. The final new thing is that the Tenebrarum appears to be unstable. I know from previous experience that if either it or the Lucis is destroyed, magic in Angielle will disappear and the ordinary witches and fairies will lose their powers; but the Bearers—you and I this time—will die," I finish looking at Parfait, but I feel Waltz's grip on my hand become tight enough to cause pain.

"You are…correct," Parfait says quietly. "The destruction of either Crystallum will be the death of both of us now. I was considering destroying the Lucis myself near the end of the Great War to destroy your mother and give her the only peace I could…but then Waltz appeared, and there was a final chance. But you say that this has happened in one of your previous…cycles?"

I nod. "Mother had gotten loose and had retaken her previous role of Bearer, Delora and others were dead. You were badly wounded, and chose to end all magic when you decided that balance was then impossible. You destroyed the Lucis, and the Tenebrarum shattered as well. Both you and Mother…faded…and turned into dust. But even the destruction of the Crystallum did not stop the cycles, making me believe that there is probably an even higher power at work."

"That…is a distinct possibility, and a dangerous one. Given that no magic any fairy or witch has access to can affect time, _only_ a higher power could be at work here," Parfait admits, and then looks at me sharply. "Do you believe that balance _is_ possible, that you will be able to help me maintain it?"

"I believe myself stronger than my mother," I say quietly. "The last ten years, and restarting again and again have been…painful…but I never surrendered to corruption and would die before doing so." I smile wryly. "I've never died during any of these cycles either. I'm frankly not sure if I did, that I would remain dead or simply awaken in my bedroom in the palace again to find the cycle restarting. Everyone else that dies during the cycles is alive at the start of the new, but I have no idea if this applies to myself or not."

"Do not test that," Waltz tells me, sounding both dry and as serious as, well, death.

"I have no intention of doing so," I tell him, meeting his eyes before turning back to Parfait. "But to answer your question, I believe that I will be able to help you maintain balance. I have never been the Bearer for very long before, but I believe myself capable of more good than my mother ever was." And I look at Waltz. "It will also help that I have someone that loves me. I…don't believe that Mother ever really had that."

"She did not," Parfait confirms. "Sometimes…I wonder what could have been different if she had. If she had had someone to love enough that would have kept her from going over the brink, or if she had ever developed affection for your father instead of merely using him as a tool…."

I shake my head sadly. "He was only ever a tool to her; someone to use to get what she wanted. She was angry for him for pining after Ophelia, after she had forced him to marry her instead. She might have had a little affection for me, but even that was…tainted. The most generous explanation of her treatment of me is that she expected others to only give me pain, and this is why she kept me in solitude and treated me harshly herself. But even then…I know that if I go against her, I will become nothing more than a tool in her eyes…" I trail off, remembering the horrific ending when my romance with Waltz did not turn out well. I had become a shell, and he had returned to serving my mother, hoping to be there if I ever snapped out of it.

I had never been so happy to see Delora on my shelf than when I had woken up in the palace after that ending. Death would have been preferable to survival in that condition…and I think that death would have been the only way out of it. And somehow I know that granting me death was the only thing Waltz could have done for me, and that that is the one thing he will never be able to do.

"Well?" I ask Parfait and Delora, returning to the present to try to gauge them. "Is this sufficient explanation for the impossible things that have been happening?"

"This is too elaborate to be a lie, and still manages to explain…most things at least," Delora admits. I am sure she would love to know _why_ the cycling has been occurring…as would I. "Who would think of something this crazy? Even the most outlandish story in those accursed Fairytales doesn't compare with this!"

Parfait nods, and somehow…I think she seems relieved, as if this explanation has cleared up something important. "And it explains, well…Waltz corroborates her story. Given that two people do not typically share the same detailed delusion, this must be the truth…as bizarre as it is."

I sigh in relief, still holding onto Waltz's hand. From our conversation, I know that Waltz and Parfait appear to believe me at least. Delora had not given her opinion until now. "I know that I've asked you this before Parfait, but any other ideas as to how I can get this to stop? Trying to bring balance did not work."

Parfait is silent. "I…do not know, since trying to bring back the balance that had been lost during the war did not work. Perhaps if we knew what covenants your mother broke or made to preserve herself, it might help. Bearers can only enter their Crystallum under very specific circumstances, and your mother had to have done something unusual to create those circumstances. There are other Crystallum elsewhere. We may need to contact the Bearers in the other kingdoms," she says slowly, and I blink. I had not considered that the Lucis and Tenebrarum had counterparts elsewhere. The subject had not come up. "I will start gathering the help we will need to contact them, but there are other considerations to take care of in the meantime."

"Such as?" I ask.

"Some magic that affects witches or fairies, also affects their spouse," Parfait says. "Our words are binding, therefore so are our marriages and other covenants. They _must_ be fulfilled; therefore, they must be remembered."

"So…this is why Waltz remembers the wedding, but not our rather short engagement?" I ask. "The terms of the engagement were fulfilled when we married, so there was no need for him to remember our agreement to marry when the terms had already been met?" Parfait nods, and I continue. "But that means then…."

"Yes, it means that magically speaking, you and Waltz are still married," Parfait confirms. "It might be best to…formalize your union again as soon as possible. You should do so within a few weeks at the very least."

I look over at Waltz, who appears to be getting concerned about something. "It's your turn to propose this time," I tell him. "I did it last time."

"Shouldn't we mention this to your father, too?" Waltz asks. "Not necessarily the whole story, but that we intend to marry?"

"Probably," I say. We really should, since Father remembers me this time. It's something that has not been relevant before now. I then turn to Parfait. "Would it be possible to arrange for my father to visit here?" Technically, I have not reached my majority yet and would need my father's permission to marry. As far as the rest of Angielle knows, I am seventeen instead of twenty-eight…or is it twenty-nine now? I realize that I am loosing track of how old I am.

"If he and Rod come by themselves, and are met by someone that can make sure that they are not followed, yes," Parfait says. "If Myth has the secret passages monitored like you imply, it might be safer for a witch and a sword to meet them on the way here."

I nod. "He ignores Rod's coming and going through the passages, and does not seem to know or care where Rod goes, but I do not know if he will ignore Father going through there."

"Well, it has become necessary," Parfait sighs. "The next time Rod visits, we will arrange for your father to come that night if he is willing. I think we better have Karma and you, Waltz, bring them in to make sure no one is following."

Waltz nods, looking increasingly anxious now. "May…may I speak to Lucette in private?" he requests.

The older two women smile, and Parfait climbs out of bed. "I should go eat, anyway," she says, and Delora helps her out the door, leaving the two of us alone. I turn around in my chair to face Waltz directly.

He takes a deep breath. "Lucette," he says slowly, "putting the possibility of imminent destruction aside for a moment, is…is this something you want to do? To marry me?"

"But we're already married," I tell him, a little unsure of what he is getting at. "Another wedding is just a formality."

"That's…not exactly what I meant," he tells me. "I know what my senses told me; I heard you tell a crowd of people that you loved me, I could feel you in my arms, and I saw that you looked happy to be with me…but I don't know what I knew or was feeling at that point."

It is my turn to be quite for a moment, and I understand. He remembers marrying me, but not that he was in love with me, and I with him. We cannot simply pick up where we left off, as much as I want to. I have to remind myself how fortunate I am that he remembers as much as he does to be able to continue. "This must be happening fast for you, especially since you can remember the wedding but not anything that happened before it, but do you not want me?" I ask, softly.

One constant thing about Waltz is that he always cares about me. It's part of why I chose to remain with him the last cycle; I would not have to build a relationship with him from the ground up each time. The foundation was already there…and I do not know what I would do if he rejected me now. But I know that even if he wanted to, he still could not leave me. He remembers his vows…he is bound to me as my husband…but if he decides not to love me it will be a cold life for both of us. While I doubt this will be our fate, the mere concept of receiving only chill from a man that has never offered me anything but warmth seems more nightmarish than some of the things my mother has done to me.

"No…I mean yes," he stammers, and then tries to collect his thoughts again. "Yes, this is fast, but if someone told me that I had to pick a bride from anyone I'd ever known today to marry tomorrow, I would have picked you assuming you were agreeable. No one has ever meant more to me than you. But that's not exactly…." he trails off, sounding as if he is in pain. "You said that you had promised to marry your mother's apprentice to appease Myth to keep your mother from being freed, and implied that you had fallen in love with someone from the Marchen but did not specify who. Was that me? Did you marry me because you loved me, or simply because I fit that promise as well? Were you truly happy to be with me, or simply relieved that…that it was me in your bed instead of Myth? What am I to _you_?"

A slow smile spreads onto my face. He is worried about me…worried whether or not I want _him_. "Yes, you were the one I had fallen in love with. We had been courting before I left for the palace; the customers had even started gambling on how long it would be before we married. Waltz…everyone else looks at me, and compares me to my mother, expecting similarities between us. You, who knew her better than about anyone and who she had arguably hurt the most, look at me and see only the differences. And I love you for that; I always will. That you fit the description was merely convenient…and while I was _very_ relieved, I was truly happy to be with you. You…are the only man I have ever shared that with."

The pain vanishes from his face only to be replaced by a relieved smile. "I would marry you again anyway, even if I was only a convenience for you. I would think that I could win you, that we would both be happy someday, but…I had to know."

And I recognize that he needed to know that I had not married him while in love with someone else; that I had not been thinking of another man, smiling in spite of a broken heart, as he took me. He knows that he would not have done so, if he had known that I was in love with another man. It would have been possible that both he and another man loved me, and that he was ignorant of my feelings for someone else.

He needed to know that he had not caused me pain.

Waltz leans forward and kisses me, and it is just as sweet as I remember…though it seems almost experimental. And much too short. When we break apart I tell him, "I wish I could give you more than kisses, but you might need motivation to ask Father about marrying me."

Waltz's cheeks are pink again, growing into an even deeper red. "Let me guess…you love to tease me…because that would be exactly like you."

"Absolutely," I say, moving from my chair to his lap, winding my arms around his neck, and putting my lips directly next to his but leaving the choice for another kiss up to him. I do not want to be so forward that I make him nervous. "Just the same, let me know if I'm moving faster than you are comfortable with."

He wraps his arms around me, but simply smiles at me instead of immediately kissing me. _Oh well…I like his smile too._

"And you are in favor of a _fast_ courtship I'm guessing?" my husband asks. "How long did our engagement last before the actual wedding last time?"

"Oh, we were engaged for all of twenty minutes last time, I think. And I've already been courted by you," I reply, "but if you would like me to court you, I'm open to that. And there is no reason for us not to get formally married again like Parfait says, even share quarters, but still generally behave as if we are still courting if that is what you want. Though…I still haven't heard a proposal from you. It _is_ your turn, you know," I finish, grinning.

My husband chuckles, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "Then Lucette, my lovely wife, my very own star, would you do me the honor of marrying me again?"

I smile up at him. "Yes Waltz, I'll marry you at any time you ask…for always, my husband," I say, and _then_ he bends down to kiss me.

…..


	28. Responsible for the Impossible

**Chapter 28. Responsible for the Impossible**

I am not sure how I avoid hanging all over Waltz for the rest of the afternoon, though I am giddy enough that Delora has to take my afternoon lessons so I can concentrate enough to learn anything at all. She hands me back to Waltz after supper, and we practice shields and deflecting spells outside. As I have learned both skills before, this goes quickly, and we move on to reviewing lightning.

"Very good, you almost got through the shield that time," Waltz says from three paces to my right as he puts up a new shield in front of us both, between me and the tree I am aiming at.

With the surge from the other night, we both decided that it would be safer if he was _not_ behind the shield I was casting at.

I nod at his praise, gather more lightning at my fingertips, and grin as I imagine Myth behind that shield and my irritation at my mother's other apprentice adds more heft to my spell. When I am ready, I let it loose at the shield instead of turning around at the sound of footsteps behind us. This time, Waltz grunts as the lightning tears large holes into his shield.

"Very good, Lucette," he says. "That one…would have knocked anyone on the other side of the shield unconscious at the very least. You would have had an even chance of killing them."

"I take it that that's why you aren't teaching from behind your own shield?" Karma says from behind us, and I turn around to see him and Fritz standing there, practice swords stuffed into their belts. I see that Karma is dressed as a woman, so I guess that Jurien is coming here tonight.

"Yes," Waltz says dryly. "I have a brain. She picks up on things very quickly, you see, but hasn't quite become accustom to her own strength…not that I would expect that, yet."

Fritz just shakes his head at me, but I can tell that he is impressed. "Didn't you just start using magic yesterday, Princess?"

"Compared to last night's storm," I say, "I think I'm making progress with control."

"Are you two done with the clearing?" Karma asks. "We were going to practice here, but if you need us to go elsewhere so no one gets hit by a stray lightning bolt…."

"I think we are done with magic for now," Waltz says, looking at me, and I nod in agreement.

Hearing a twig crack, I look over to see Garlan and Jurien approaching. They whisper to each other, both looking tense. When they are close enough for conversation, I say, "You might as well get your murmurs out in the open so we can deal with them here and now."

"Is she always so forthright?" I hear Karma quietly ask.

"Yes," both Fritz and Waltz answer at once, but I do not turn my head, preferring to concentrate on the two newcomers.

"Considering his father's actions, we do not think we can fully trust Sir Fritzgerald, Princess," Garlan answers after a second, and Jurien nods from beside him.

"He promised that he would not communicate with his family or friends, or even go outside the boundaries of the Marchen without both a disguise and the permission of my tutors," I answer. "Is that not good enough? Or perhaps you believe that people should be judged by the actions of their parents?"

They both shift uncomfortably. If they say that they judge Fritz by what his father has done, they might as well say that they judge me by the actions of my mother…in which case they should really be trying to kill me. "I don't claim that I know all of the details," I continue, "but I know that you two had the choice between doing the honorable thing that could injure you, or the easy thing and possibly benefited yourselves. You chose honorably, and I can respect that. I could wish that any knight would have done the same, but if that were true, your actions would have been unnecessary."

Jurien purses her lips a moment before addressing Fritz. "What do you know of the situation?" she asks him.

Fritz takes a deep breath. "I have heard two very different stories. My father told me that the two of you left the Order and Angielle voluntarily, but the Princess told me yesterday that you brought a negative report concerning my father to the king, and she believes it had accuracy. She says that the king did not believe you, that my father expelled you from the Order and that you were also banished from the palace grounds." Fritz stops for a moment, and looks at me. "Given that my father has lied to me in the past, but the Princess never has, I chose to believe her version."

The features of the other two knights relax some. "And you would vouch for him, I assume, Princess? You trust him with your life?" Jurien asks me.

"Of course," I answer.

"But not enough to tell me that you had been training with the sword, or to ask me to help you with it," Fritz remarks, sounding disappointed.

I sigh, and find an explanation I think would work for him. "Fritz, it's not that I didn't tell you about training or ask you to conduct it because I thought I couldn't depend on you or trust you—because I do. I simply thought that because it was 'improper' for a princess to be trained with a sword, that I would have to be sneaky about it. The first rule of being sneaky is to figure out how people would expect you to do something, and then to find a different way to do it."

"Has she always been this sly?" Karma asks quietly.

"Yes," Waltz answers him. "She's just become more…refined…about it since she was a child. She used to sneak out to play all of the time. It did not surprise me to find that she had been sneaking out to practice with a sword, since." He plays along with the supposition that I received training in the palace, rather than in my cycles.

Fritz grimaces, as if wishing he had any input about this character trait of mine, as if wondering how he could have possibly missed it. He simply does not have any experience, that he is capable of remembering, of me being sneaky.

 _If he only knew…. Varg had been shocked that everything I had done leading up to the counter-coup was merely an act. Fritz believed my performance so thoroughly, he refused to set eyes on me until I had admitted that it_ had _been an act._

I give Karma and Waltz a mildly withering glance before I continue. "If someone suspected that I was training with the sword, they would assume that you would be training me because you were most convenient, and observe you to confirm their suspicions. If they watched you, or asked you about it, they would find nothing.

"The second reason is that men and women fight a little differently. You know as well as I do that men have more upper body strength, while women have more strength in the hips and thighs, so there are some movements we perform differently. I had to find a female trainer if I wanted to fight well….and you do not fit that description." And I had found a female trainer…Jurien has actually taught me almost as much as Karma.

"Who _did_ give you lessons?" Jurien asks curiously.

"Well," I say, "you should assume that my instructor asked to remain anonymous, and that I agreed with that condition in order to train." And this is as close as I've ever gotten to lying to Fritz, if memory serves. _Well…I suppose there was that time I helped Delora dose him with a sleeping potion…._

"Now I'm curious, Princess," Garlan says, handing me a practice sword. "Let's see how well you learned your lessons."

I take the wooden practice sword in my hands, and decide to pretend not to know what I am doing very well to get the drop on Garlan.

I have no concept of time when fighting, but my tactic works and the duel appears to be over shortly as I hold the practice blade to Garlan's throat as he lies sprawled in front of me. "Really now," I tell him. "You should have expected me to pretend to be inepter than I was in order to distract you after I just confessed to being sneaky, and I think that anyone that has seen you fight knows that you favor your left side."

Garlan gives a good natured laugh from the ground, and I remove my blade from his throat before he scrambles off of the ground. "I'll remember that."

I look over to where the others wait at the sideline. Karma, Fritz, and Jurien look a little surprised that I won, but Waltz simply smiles at me. From that point, we continue practice pretty much like we always do…as practice has been in my previous cycles…except with Fritz added in. By the end, between that and my magical practice, I am exhausted enough that I accept Waltz's arm to lean on as I return to my room.

"You push yourself too hard," Waltz tells me as we go up the stairs.

"Maybe if I'm sleeping, I won't be starting any storms," I tell him. "I certainly plan to sleep tonight."

"Oh…I almost forgot to tell you," he says as we pass what is usually my room. "Due to last night, you've been moved into Delora's room for the time being. That way, she'll be there right away if it happens again."

"I guess she would prefer her own bed to the chair in my room," I sigh, and then brighten, sensing an opportunity. "You said, 'for the time being,' correct?"

"Yes," my husband replies, somehow keeping a straight face. "Just until it is no longer necessary that you have a chaperone."

"Well played," I tell him, wearing a grin as I knock on Delora's door. _He is learning to play that game, too, teasing me back…there are two possible reasons I might need Delora to chaperone me._ I hear Delora's voice telling me to come it, but before doing so I crook my finger to get my husband to bend down so I can give him a quick goodnight kiss. Waltz does not delay in accepting my invitation, and the 'quick' goodnight kiss lingers longer than I originally intended.

When I do go in, I find Delora's room to be very different from Parfait's. Instead of natural woods and pastel colors for decoration, Delora has chosen dark woods and rich colors. I find her sitting up in bed reading by candlelight, and the room looks like it was hastily reorganized to accommodate my bed against the opposite wall. There is a desk in the middle of the room, as well as a few pieces of smaller furniture, and I pick around them to get to my own bed.

"Your nightgown, along with your other things from your room, are in a box under your bed," the other woman says.

"Thank you, Delora," I say, reaching under the bed, hoping that I don't fall flat on my face while doing so.

There must be some fatigue in my voice, because Delora looks up from her book. "Tired enough to sleep tonight, are we?"

"I'm a firm believer in getting a good night's sleep at least every other night," I reply, retrieving my nightgown from the box I have just found.

Delora smiles at me. "Good, so am I."

"From the state of this room, I am assuming that you wish this arrangement to be as temporary as possible?" I ask, gesturing to the pile in the middle of the floor. She has not really bothered to arrange things very well.

Delora shrugs, and pauses while she puts up a simple spell. I guess that it is a sound barrier of some kind, given that we might be discussing sensitive issues and the walls are not that thick. "I don't mind sharing my room with you, but your brother usually visits about once a week, and he did not stay long last time. Hopefully, he will return soon. I am sure you would rather be with your husband."

"I am anxious to be with him…but he only remembers what his senses told him, and not his heart," I admit.

"He is a good man, and would honor any promise he made even if he were not a witch," Delora tells me. "Don't forget that he risked everything for you, once, and he never stopped caring for you. If that developed into love before, I don't see why it would not again."

I nod, starting at the lacings on my dress. "I'm…counting on that. I guess that I'll just have to be patient until it does. Patience…was never my strong suit," I admit, and Delora grins. "As for the rest, I could see Father sending Rod to check on me. And then…I just have to convince Father that a hasty marriage is a good idea."

"I had a thought on that," Delora tells me. "Try playing the 'this shaky Crystallum might kill me' card."

"That might work," I muse. "And it has the benefit of being the truth. I wouldn't tell my father that I might die if it wasn't a possibility." Then I frown. "For the life of me, I can't think of how anything that happened last time could cause that. I assume that _something_ caused that, but I do not know what it would be."

"It is linked to you," Delora muses, "and it attempts to return to its original state as you are typically returned to yours. But if there was a reason you could not return to your previous physical state, that could have…destabilized it. You retain your age, thus your magic and control of the Tenebrarum, and this creates conflicts between what is and what should be."

"What are you getting at, Delora?" I ask, pulling my chemise and dress over my head.

"I…" Delora trails off, looking at my arm were a bruise is starting. "Where did you get that?"

I look at my arm, and then shrug as I put my nightgown on. "It's not that bad. I was out practicing with the knights again."

Delora's lips purse for a moment. "I suppose that it does not matter just yet, but you are going to have to stop that."

I pause, sensing something else in her words. "But no one has cared before," I say slowly. "It's simply exercise at this point. Now that I can use magic, a sword will not have as much relevance for me," I say, scooting up on my bed so I can lean against the wall while still facing Delora.

"That's not the point. If he let you practice, I suppose Waltz doesn't know yet, and apparently you have not noticed either. I suppose that it is too early for it to be obvious," she tells me.

Now I am worried, and suddenly quite awake again. "Waltz and I both don't know _what_ Delora?"

"That you became pregnant during your wedding night at the end of the last cycle," she gets out in one breath, all in a rush.

I can only stare at her, wide-eyed for a moment. " _Pregnant_?" I finally squeak.

"Yes…pregnant, expecting, in the family way, with child, or whatever euphemism you wish to use," Delora answers, and then she pauses. "You _do_ know how that happened, and I do not have to explain it to you, correct?"

"I know, you don't have to explain it," I say softly. _Pregnant!_ I had honestly never considered that probability. I thought that I had covered every possibility, assessed every risk I took, but laws of nature, like the Law of Unintended Consequences, cannot be denied their due. I had only been with Waltz that one night…but sometimes, it only takes one night. I remember the tutor assigned to explain adolescence and its physical changes, and she had emphasized that particular point.

I shut my eyes tightly, thinking of other possibilities, not sure if I want the answer or not. "What about the cycling? If I can't get it to stop this time, will I awake in the palace again but six months pregnant? If I give birth the cycle after that, will my baby just…disappear if another starts?"

I hear Delora sigh. "I wish I knew. Given that the cycling did not affect your pregnancy, it is reasonable to assume that if it does not stop you will awaken six months pregnant when the next cycle starts. I have no idea what would happen to the babe after that. Whatever else happens, I think Waltz will retain at least some memories of the cycles you go through since he remembered your wedding. If I had to take a guess, he will remember anything related to your marriage."

Which could be of some comfort, as many events could be included in that definition of marriage. I open my eyes and pull my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, thinking of the new life that I am cradling myself. "I've wanted…craved…the end of the cycling for so very long, not wanting to go through this part of my life again and again. Now…I really don't have a choice, do I?" A small, ironic smile twists my lips, and I find that I have to bleed the unbidden magical energy out into the air outside. At least it isn't the torrent I had to deal with before. I am in more shock than having problems with anxiety right now. Logic…action, or at least planning appropriately for action, take precedence over the emotions I know will rear later. Panic means disorientation; panic means death. I cannot risk death…especially not now. "I _have_ to stop it, or risk losing my child forever."

It would be one thing to have a baby and then have that child die of natural causes…so many infants are born weak, that every mother expects to lose at least one or two…but for the babe to have no chance at all due to whatever is causing my repetitious life….

Delora comes over to my bed to sit beside me, and she wraps an arm around me. She simply holds me until I speak again. "You know what that loss feels like, Delora," I whisper. "Your daughter was among my mother's victims. She was…only ten?"

"She was," Delora answers softly. "I wouldn't join your mother, I spoke against her, so she…" Delora trails off, and shakes her head. "Well, that's why Parfait considers me incorruptible…even the loss of my daughter did not turn me, when the pain of losing children corrupted so many others."

"You told me once," I say, "that if your daughter had lived, that you hoped that she would have been someone like me."

Delora smiles at me, a glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I could see myself saying that. You are a very special young woman."

I frown, thinking for a moment, and the current of magical energy disappears again. "This is why I can use magic, why I was not physically reset when time reset? The Tenebrarum did not allow my child, its potential future Bearer, to be destroyed?"

Delora nods. "It probably used a lot of power to prevent that…making it unstable. This cycle, you not only need to find how to stop time from resetting and cycling again; you have to stabilize the Tenebrarum so it is capable of saving your child again without destroying itself if you cannot get the cycling stopped this time. Although in theory the Bearer might decide to destroy the Crystallum they are responsible for, the Crystallum will never destroy the Bearer, or future Bearer. They are dependent on their Bearers, just as the Bearers are on them."

"And I'll need to go and see the Tenebrarum in the secret passages beneath the palace soon," I muse. "However, I'll probably run into Myth. I should not go alone."

"You most definitely should not go alone," Delora agrees.

"Hmmm…Delora," I muse sitting up straight to look her in the eye, "how _exactly_ did you know that I was pregnant before I did?"

"Parfait told me," she says with a smile. "She mentioned it to me in private after your explanation this afternoon."

"It explains why she wants Waltz and I to marry again as soon as possible; there would be no rush otherwise," I say, wondering when my pregnancy symptoms will start. And my breath catches as I realize that I will have to tell a man that does not remember courting me that I am having his baby…though it would be so much worse if he did not remember our wedding night. I know that he will support me in any way that he can, but this will seem _very_ fast to him…and that does not change the fact that he needs to know that he is a father. "But she knew about the baby because…" I trail off, and Delora grins, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You are going to enjoy this, Princess."

"Try me," I say. I could use a laugh right now.

"So," Delora starts, "Jurien bursts in and tells Parfait that you have started using magic and that you dispelled your brother's curse. This should be impossible—both you using magic and the Tenebrarum accepting you as its Bearer before you turn eighteen which would be the only way you _could_ dispel any curse. She runs up to the private dining area, but casts a spell to determine the number of people inside it, and their levels of power before entering. She is hoping that your mother, who Parfait thought dead but had never actually witnessed that death, is not manipulating the situation after returning from wherever to find and destroy her. The inn is warded against evil witches, but your mother might have been crafty and powerful enough to find a way in anyway."

"That sounds appropriately cautious," I remark.

Delora continues. "Parfait senses two human males—Rod and Fritz, me who she is familiar with, and two unfamiliar witches that are sources of vast, but raw, power—one male, and one female."

"It's a boy," I whisper, placing a hand on my abdomen. _My son._

"Yes, but she is not aware that you are pregnant yet," Delora says as she nods. "This confuses her, as she has no idea who the other budding witch is. But she is relieved that you have somehow gained guardianship of the Tenebrarum—as opposed to her having to deal with Hildyr lying in wait for her in the private dining room and ready to strike. So she enters, greets you, and searches for the person that is the male source of the raw magical power since she does not see a third male present."

"I remember," I say with a smile. "She was looking around the room as if searching for someone else."

Delora nods, her grin growing wider. "It doesn't take her long to guess that you might be pregnant, since a spell to show anyone hidden produces no further results, and another spell confirms that you are carrying a child. However, she is not sure who the father would be, since you are unmarried…as far as she knows…and I have never mentioned that you had a lover. So she _suspects_ …."

"She _suspects_ that Fritz is the father," I say, starting to giggle. Fritz would be mortified if he knew that anyone had presumed such a thing.

"A perfectly reasonable conclusion, considering he is the only male you tolerate for any length of time," Delora continues. "So she casts a spell that will confirm the identity of the father, if he is the room, just as Waltz enters the room in his childhood form…and imagine her surprise when the father turns out to be _him_!"

I am now laughing, hugging my sides because it hurts.

"And now, she has to decide if something is _seriously_ wrong with her magic," she continues, barely able to restrain her own laughter, "or how Waltz could have fathered your baby, while in a child form himself—and on top of that, he hadn't been anywhere near you for years!"

I am now laughing so hard; I practically fall over. "She did look pretty confused, her eyes darting between the two of us," I say between fits of giggles.

"I couldn't tell what spells she was using at the time, we can't always see fairy magic," Delora admits, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes when our laughter finally settles down, "but I knew that I had never seen her so flabbergasted in all of the time I had known her! I really don't know how I kept a straight face. Between you using magic before turning eighteen, the Tenebrarum accepting you as its Bearer before you should have inherited it, and that you and Waltz had produced a child…she had a total of _three_ impossible things to explain! Lucette, you don't know how relieved she was when you gave her an explanation that made sense today!"

And I have to start laughing again. " _That_ made sense! You do mean my explanation in which time is restarting itself about every six months, but I am the only one to remember until Waltz gets pulled in with me at the time of the wedding? Of all the reactions I would expect after explaining the cycling, 'Oh, this makes sense now,' was _not_ one of them."

"But it explained everything, or at least the three impossible things she was concerned with at the time," Delora answers. "Like I said, it was too crazy to be fiction! It also explained the change in your…temperament…as compared to what I had seen in you previously."

We spend a few more minutes talking before my eyelids droop once more, and Delora tucks me into my bed. She puts out the candle, and all I can think about as I start to fall asleep is that I now have a son, and perhaps my most important reason yet to get this cycling to stop.

…

 _Author's note:_

 _Someone that wasn't signed in (I am happy to answer most questions privately if you are signed in, assuming the answer would not give too much away) asked for clarification regarding Waltz's feelings at the end of the last chapter. No, he is not in love with Lucette at this point, but she is as precious to him as she has always been. He knows that they are married, magically speaking, and since they both made that oath to each other they are bound to their word; they couldn't get out of their marriage even if they wanted to. He can't remember why or how he fell in love with Lucette, but accepts that he did once and wants to marry her and fall in love with her again. Waltz is kind of overwhelmed by the suddenness of this, though, as anyone would be._

 _It has also occurred to Waltz that Lucette would be less likely to follow her mother's path to corruption if she had a husband that she loved and that loved her, and nothing would break him more than seeing her chose her mother's evil. So, Waltz is making the choice to marry and love Lucette both because he wants to, and because he must._

 _I hope this provides clarification for anyone that was confused about the subject. :)_


	29. Say Something

**Chapter 29. Say Something**

The next morning, Fritz is waiting outside the door wearing a concerned expression when Delora and I try to leave for breakfast. "Princess," he asks, "may I talk to you…in private?"

I look at Delora, who simply says, "Just stand far enough away that you won't shock him."

 _Literally, or figuratively…because that is the difference between about three feet versus so far away he cannot hear me._

I nod, and return to Delora's bedroom and sit back down on my bed. Fritz follows me in, closes the door, and turns to face me but he is silent for long moments.

"What is it, Fritz?" I ask.

"Princess, I…" he tries to start. "I just wanted to inquire…." He takes a deep breath. "You seem to have gotten very close to Waltz in a _very_ short time. I know that you need him to instruct you, and I just wanted to make sure that he was not…taking advantage of the situation in any way."

And somehow I am sure that Fritz saw that kiss I gave Waltz last night in the hallway outside Delora's room, but not that it occurred at my invitation. I give Fritz a small smile. "No, he's a perfect gentleman. If anything, _I'm_ a bit…forward." I do not mention the fact that Waltz has given me a son. I know that Fritz would not take that particular news very well right now…. _Come to think of it…I should let my husband know about that sometime today. I do not doubt that it will come as quite a shock…that it complicates things…but he would want to know. He would take it worse if I tried to hide it from him for any length of time. He always wants me to be transparent with him, for me to let him know what I am truly feeling._

Fritz sighs. "I see," he finally replies, sounding both relieved and saddened. He was not sure which answer he was hoping for, himself. He did not see any recourse available if Waltz were taking advantage, unless perhaps if Parfait could be persuaded to intervene, but the only other option would be that I was seriously interested in Waltz.

And I know that Fritz always admired me, and wanted to be someone I could rely on and trust. If I interact with him often enough, he starts to hope that it would be possible that I could return his feelings. He may have started to have that hope when I asked him if he wanted to go into hiding with me while I learn to use magic…perhaps that was why it was comparatively easy to convince him to come…but I was smiling at Waltz within a few hours of leaving the palace. Those hopes had been quickly smothered, but I doubt his admiration for me is gone.

It is not like this is something that he could not have foreseen, though. He knew that eventually there would be men paying me court, and his own duty would keep him from being among them unless I made advances first. However, he appears to find the speed of my relationship with Waltz shocking; he probably expected that a man would have to court me for a few months to start earning even my smiles. Once, he would have been correct in that belief.

Now I have confirmed that I am interested in Waltz; that he is not pushing me faster that I want to go. It might help a little if he knew some of the reason Waltz is precious to me so he doesn't hope that my interest in Waltz is merely a fancy of mine that may disappear as suddenly as it came, even though Fritz knows that I am not one to be taken by such things. He needs to have a realistic view of the situation in order to better cope with it. "I know that this will seem…odd…but in some ways, Waltz knows me better than I know myself. You know that he used to be my mother's apprentice?"

"I have heard that mentioned," he answers, nodding.

"When we were younger, he would sneak into my room to play with me, to make me smile. The rest of the time, he lived under Mother's thumb, as she attempted to corrupt him…but I was the only bright spot in his life at the time and he was the only source of joy I had in mine. She isolated me from everyone besides herself, and Waltz was the only one that ever got through anyway. Eventually, Mother erased my memories of him, but not his memories of me…and I think she did it that way to cause him pain, to punish him. That was when he betrayed her to Parfait, knowing Mother would probably corrupt me if she was not destroyed, and Mother cursed him."

"And she left the items he would need to break his curse with you," Fritz says grimly, "and since you could not remember him…what he needed would be where it was most painful for him to get them." And I nod, but Fritz continues. "But you said something about remembering…fragments?"

"Sometimes pieces of erased memories show up in my dreams," I tell him. "Things that I do remember occurring show up in dreams as well…but for the things that I don't remember that appear in my dreams…they are always fragments of joy."

"Things _she_ took from you," Fritz says, sounding disgusted, and then he sighs. "And you probably see Waltz as someone she took from you, that you can reclaim?"

"I…cannot deny that," I tell him. I reclaimed Waltz and took him as my husband, in spite of the things she had done to separate us.

"There is something else, Princess," he continues after a few moments, sounding determined. "You, the witches, and Parfait…are all being secretive about something. You don't have to tell me what it is, but if there is any way I can help you, you need only ask."

And even with his hopes dashed, he still wants to do anything he can for me, whatever it costs him. This is the Fritz that slew Myth before the duel between Myth and Waltz could be completed, allowing me to have the man I loved. After all, he could have allowed Myth to kill Waltz, or at least wait until there was a clear victor, before emerging. "There's a…problem…with the Tenebrarum. I don't know how you could help at this time." Then I remember that Parfait may need messages carried to the other Bearers elsewhere. She will have to send them soon, for them to be able to return with answers before the next cycle starts. I don't really like the idea of sending Fritz on such an errand, but he may go mad if he can't do anything useful. "That may change, and I might have a task suited to you later. I need to plan with Parfait about something."

Fritz nods, seeming a little consoled. "As long as you know that you will always have my sword, Princess. And…I just wanted to ensure that you were not being pushed into anything."

"Of course." I tell him. "You know; you act more like a brother to me than Rod does."

Fritz starts at this. "I…do?"

"If you really wanted to be my brother, it wouldn't be impossible," I tell him. This is the most I can offer him. I know that it is not what he wants, but it is what he can have if he decides to accept it. "Emelaigne admires you…though she would be mortified if she finds out that I told you. The gods know she is incapable of telling you, herself."

Fritz's mouth drops open. "But…but…Princess Emelaigne…" he finally stammers.

"You don't need to worry that Father would object," I continue. "How can he? He married a baker, himself. If you wish it, I will speak to my father on your behalf." I look at my knight, who is now opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. "And I won't be offended if you don't want her. For all I know, you could have intentions elsewhere and I've put a damper on them by dragging you with me." _That I've thrown cold water on them would be a more apt metaphor, but there is one of me, and two…well, five…of you and I have made my choice._ "Or Emelaigne may simply not be your type; not everyone likes that much bubbly. It certainly took me some time to start getting used to it."

"Err…I am really not sure how to answer that," Fritz finally says.

I nod. "It's not something that necessarily needs an answer. Just let me know if you would like any help with my sister if you ever decide that you are interested. Is there anything else you would like to discuss before breakfast?"

"No Princess," Fritz tells me, as if in a daze.

I stand up from my bed, and have to clear my throat before Fritz remembers to open the door for me. "Then, let's go eat."

I exit and go to stand by Delora who is still waiting in the hall. Fritz exits behind me, but walks past us as if still in a daze. "That's quite an effect you have on people," Delora tells me. "If I may ask, what was that about?"

"He wanted to make sure that Waltz's behavior was…honorable, and ask about what the gigantic problem was and offer to help if he could," I tell the older woman. "I told him that Waltz is a gentleman, I did not currently have a task he could accomplish, that he was acting like a brother to me and if he wanted to make that formal Emelaigne fancies him."

Delora shakes her head at me. "You know, as far as he is concerned unless I miss my guess, she's the wrong princess."

"Emelaigne really is smitten, but I don't think he ever considered her," I answer her. "However, in this situation, that is all I can offer him."

"I was not suggesting otherwise," Delora tells me before we head downstairs for breakfast.

…..

I keep wondering when Rod is going to visit, but I know that he does not need to come here to see that I am cursed, because I have escaped that this time. However, he usually comes the same day Rumple does, and that should be sometime tomorrow.

I really need to tell Waltz about the baby so he knows why it's important that we get married immediately. What if I am able to get the cycling to stop this time? My son's life will be harder if people think him illegitimate. It would be even more difficult if I am unable to get it stopped until the next cycle, but I suppose I could explain that I had married earlier without my father's knowledge and was using magic to hide the baby. It would be a lesser scandal, and it would be easier than explaining time fluctuations. It might be the one time when my mother's behavior would actually help me. Compared to her murdering the previous king, forcing my father to marry her, and then ruling the nation in darkness my marrying in secret and hiding a pregnancy would seem like such a small thing. It would be like finding a ferret loose in your house when you had been expecting a mountain lion.

Waltz tells me during breakfast that he wants to go out during the morning, to perform and play with the children. Apparently, he wants to tell his young friends that a beautiful young lady broke his curse, but is a little downcast that he cannot show me to them under the circumstances.

So, I smile and nod when he tells me about his plans, and Delora says she'll see to my morning lessons. I'll just have to tell him about the baby later, and I know I'll see him during the afternoon. After all, I cannot exactly blurt this out at the breakfast table. The anticipation of telling Waltz distracts me, making it harder for me to concentrate on my training this morning. Unlike my mother, Delora does not scold me for this. She can guess what is going on in my mind, and recognizes it's probably enough to distract anyone.

It is afternoon before Delora hands me back to Waltz, and I can drag him to the private dining room and shut the door. At first he seems pleasantly surprised, as if expecting more kisses, but he quickly senses that something is bothering me. This is confirmed when I ask him to put up a sound barrier, and his expression becomes serious as he does so. "What is it, Lucette?"

I normally have no trouble being frank, but how does one tell a man that you are carrying his baby? To complicate matters further, that the cycles that keep occurring may destroy the child? This is unlike anything I have done before. My worry tries to trickle as static out of my arm, but I bleed the magical energy into the air before it can. "According to Parfait, I…became pregnant on our wedding night. She says that it's a boy. I found out late last night."

Waltz's eyes widen, and he leans back against the wall for support. I grab a chair, place it next to him, and he somehow manages to lower himself into it. I take another, and sit down myself.

 _Apparently, I cannot go half a day without shocking someone; first Fritz, and now my husband._

"Waltz?" I ask after a few minutes. "Please say _something_."

He starts, and takes my hands into his. "I'm sorry Lucette. I'm just…surprised."

"I don't blame you for that," I reply. "It does explain things, though. This cycle, I couldn't be physically reset this time without destroying the babe, so I retained my magic and thus remained the Bearer. Keeping me static while everything else reset is probably what made the Tenebrarum unstable."

"And in another six months?" he asks. "And the cycle after that, after the baby has arrived?"

"That's my biggest concern, too," I admit. "This cycle or the next…it _has_ to stop." I notice more energy building, and funnel it into a harmless shield before I can literally shock my husband.

Waltz notices me funneling the magic away, and pulls me into his lap to hold me. "We'll find a way," he whispers as I rest my head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart for a few minutes; it calms me, and the unbidden magic fades. "Just so you know," he continues, "I do want this baby…our own family. We'll have to figure out how to end this, so we can keep him…but we can do this together, and our son will be more than worth it."

"Thank you," I whisper to him, and he hugs me. "I…needed to hear that from you." Still, I sigh. Under normal circumstances, this should be a much happier moment. I should have been smiling as I told my husband…who clearly remembered being in love with me…that we were expecting our first child. Waltz should have been so excited he was bouncing off the walls instead of needing to console me in my worry. This should have been a joyous announcement to my family and friends, instead of something to be hidden until Waltz and I are formally married again. Instead…instead….

I close my eyes against tears, and lean my face into my husband's shirt. And he is both warm, and steady as he holds me. This is the man that decided to love me, merely because I am in love him. He will fight anything to protect me. He will request no reward for doing either of these things…and he deserves the very best of everything that I can give him.

Finally, I am able to relax in his arms, the tears not appearing for now at least.

"You know," my husband admits, "I had always thought that while I wanted children one day, my fear was going to be that they would arrive before I considered myself ready to be a father. The consequences of time fluctuations never occurred to me."

"I hadn't thought about that either. As to the other, I'm not sure that anyone ever really feels truly prepared to be a parent," I reply, not having thought much of parenting myself. I guess that most people want to be as good as or a better parent than they had. But then, I don't think that I'll have to try very hard to be a better mother than the one I had myself. I have to simply avoid alienating my child from the affections of his father, friends, and the love of his life and not try to corrupt him to be a better mother.

I know that I need to aim higher than that. I need to make sure that my children never doubt that they are loved; that they never believe that my affections are conditional.

"You may be right about that," Waltz admits. "The point is that instead of focusing on raising a child, my initial focus is on making sure that he and his mother survive and that these cycles stop. I'll do whatever I can to take care of the both of you."

"You always take care of me, and I can't see how you would do any less for your son," I say, remembering the day he was injured by Varg. When I had gone to see him after I found out about Mother again that evening, he had been given so much painkiller medication, his words were slurred. The next morning, he still brought my breakfast tray to me… _he_ had been concerned for _me_. And I cannot help but sigh yet again. "And you have no idea how happy I am that you remember as much as you do. I'm not sure how I would have explained the baby to you, otherwise."

"That…would have been even more awkward," my husband admits, "but there is a relatively simple spell to determine paternity. However, since we are both witches that made a promise to each other, that is not an issue."

And I realize that if I had married a human, and become pregnant on that night, I would still be able to use magic and would remain the Bearer…but my husband would have no memory at all of our marriage. Of the other four, I think only Fritz would have reacted in any way as well as Waltz is right now. It would have taken him some time to wrap his head around it, but in the end he would have been as steadfast as Waltz. Though I think perhaps Fritz would be much more uncertain about being a father. After all, Fritz does not exactly have a good father himself. In fact, I think Alcaster is the worst father I've met anywhere.

Very few men are willing to have their sons cursed, or would kill their only child themselves.

"I wish that I remembered more," Waltz tells me.

"You are not alone in that," I tell him, my mind turning to what is rather than what ifs. "Not just that I wish you had remembered our courtship, but I wish that I remembered more of the time we spent together when we were children. More comes back every now and then, but there are still holes in my memory."

"Then why don't we tell each other all about it?" he asks me.

I blink. "Just…talk about it, you mean?"

He smiles at me. "More or less. When we have quiet moments, in private with no pressing demands, I can tell you about what I remember and you have forgotten about our time together, and you can do the same for me."

A slow smile spreads across my face. "I…think that I would like that, Waltz. Do we have anything pressing right now?"

"I think we have time for a story before you get back to your lessons," Waltz tells me. "Tell me…which of us started flirting first last time?"

"I did, but you did not realize that that was what I was doing, at the time," I tell him.

"Neither fact really surprises me," he admits, a slow smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

I smile as I start the tale, wishing that time could stand still for at least a little while, wishing that this pleasant moment would last for longer than I know it will. "Well, I had been watching you practice magic with Delora one evening…."

…..

I do not even bother to get out of bed when I hear Garlan yelling for Parfait that night. "What's that?" Delora asks, from her bed across the room.

"Rumpel probably arrived," I moan, half asleep this time. "Parfait and Annice will fix him up, and he will be…comparatively fine in the morning."

"Good then," she yawns, before rolling over in bed to return to sleep.

I wake again later that night, a scream caught in my throat. I walk over to the washstand, splash water onto my face, and look into the mirror—even in the soft moonlight I can still see that I am pale. In my dream, I was crying as my mother removed my memories of Waltz piece by piece. He was restrained in the corner of the room, horrified but unable to look away from me, as my tears diminished and I slowly became unable to remember what I had been crying about.

My breath catches, as I realize that that was exactly what had happened…and my mother had taken that memory from me as well. I return shakily to bed, wondering how many other memories will resurface in my dreams. I guess not all of my erased memories are pleasant after all.

The next morning Delora and I go to see the new arrival, which from Parfait's description, is indeed Rumpel. It feels odd not to be carrying a breakfast tray as I enter my old room when he tells us to come in after Delora knocks. I see a breakfast tray on his table, and it occurs to me to wonder who does the fetching and carrying now that I am working on my lessons instead of laboring.

Just as always, when we enter Rumpel is by the window looking at his notebook. It just seems a little odd to see him sitting in my old room, in my chair.

"Good morning," Delora says. "Good to see you're awake and breathing."

 _Hmmm…I think I can play with this a little bit without Rumpel noticing anything that unusual…and even if he does…he did just have a head injury so no one will care if he says anything odd…._ "He's going to ask if he's dead," I whisper in Delora's ear.

When he looks up at us, his eyes widen. "Am I…dead?" Rumple asks.

"What?" Delora asks, addressing me as much as she is him.

I whisper again to Delora, "Here comes the angel part."

"I'm in heaven. Or maybe…you two are angels that have fallen out of it?" Rumpel asks.

"You are a little scary, sometimes…the 'angel part' indeed," the older witch tells me, not really bothering to whisper, but clearly addressing me. "Do you have _everything_ memorized?"

I shrug. "This happens often enough."

Rumple notices the exchange, but the smile does not leave his face. "Then obviously I am not the first man to compare you to an angel, if you have the line committed to memory!" he says, plainly assuming that I hear this pick-up line all of the time. I find this assumption a little ironic in the light that _very_ few men have the nerve to attempt to 'pick up' the ice princess. "I am by no means surprised by that, as beautiful as you are! But I digress…what can a humble gentleman like myself do for you lovely ladies?" When we do not answer, he continues. "Ah, you could join me on this bed! It's very comfortable and there's plenty of room for the both of you."

I shrug and turn to Delora before she says that she will follow my lead. "I really don't want this man, especially since I already have one. But if you want him, by all means take him," I tell her, attempting to keep a smile off my face as I do so.

"I'll pass, thanks Princess," she replies.

Rumpel looks a little crestfallen. "I take it that this lovely young lady already has an admirer? Of course I'm disappointed, but not surprised by that. But a princess…. Ah, of course! Such a beautiful lady could only be a princess! Just take one look at her noble grace! I suppose that some equally noble prince has won your heart."

"Nope," I tell him. "A witch." _Though…Waltz really is a prince, now. I wonder how long it will be before someone addresses him as 'Your Highness' and he realizes that they mean him…._

His eyebrows rise. "Apparently, this princess likes danger."

"Actually, I'm fairly certain that _she's_ the more dangerous of the pair," Delora says dryly, and I really cannot disagree with that.

"As dangerous as she is beautiful then," Rumpel muses. "What an adventure being your paramour would be!"

 _You have no idea how right you are about that. The survival rate isn't that good…._

Then, Parfait walks into the room. "Oh, he's awake!" she says.

"Another lovely lady has entered my chambers?" Rumple says, and I turn around to face Delora so Rumple cannot see me as I mouth his words as he says them. "I don't think my heart can handle the perfection of three of you at once!"

"I think I know how Casanova here got those head injuries," Delora and I both say out loud to Parfait at once. Delora glares at me, but I only grin at her and continue. "Some lady decided she'd had enough of his rubbish and wanted to punish him…" we both say.

"Stop that!" Delora tells me.

"This is part of my revenge for that broom thing," I tell her, still grinning. "You had your fun, and now I get mine."

"Delora, Lucette, patience," Parfait says, but I can tell she is amused at my antics. "He may not even be in the right state of mind right now. He did take injuries to the head, after all."

Then, Rumple stares directly at me. "You're familiar…Lucette was it? But…. No, it's impossible! Aren't you the crown princess? What are you doing here?"

"Taking magic lessons from this witch right here," I say, and point to Delora. "She's one of my tutors."

"I…see," Rumple says, sounding just a little subdued as he realizes he was flirting with a pair of witches, and one of them the daughter of the king. But then, he will happily flirt with anything in a skirt. _Which_ _reminds me…._

"What is your name, good sir?" Parfait asks, and Rumpel suddenly becomes downcast. I am sure that Parfait still remembers that Rumpel does not know his name, and she is merely getting to the heart of his issue.

"I would answer any question you ask of me, madam, but…I don't remember," he says, looking at his notebook.

"Amnesia?" Delora considers out loud, though she also already knows about the curse.

"I know everything about Angielle," Rumpel says, "and yet…I don't know the first thing about myself. Except that I have the Rumpelstiltskin Curse."

"I knew it," Delora says, "he's got the Fairytale Curse."

"Fairytale Curse?" Rumpel asks.

"Do you remember how to break it?" Parfait asks.

"From what I remember," Rumpel says, "I need to somehow collect three memories and get them to appear in this journal as entries." He proffers his notebook. "My first memory is waking up and holding this. I thought there would be information in here, but its empty."

"Another victim of the curse," Parfait sighs. "You must be tired. We'll give you some time to yourself. We'll be outside if you need anything else."

"Oh, by the way," I decide to tell him before leaving, knowing it might head some conflict off, "don't flirt with _everyone_ wearing a skirt here. There's a cursed man that has to dress as a woman, and appears as a beautiful redhead, named Karma. He's been known to beat men that flirt with him…and you don't need another head injury…so you might ask for names before attempting that."

"I…will try to remember that, Princess…Karma…redhead," Rumple says, looking concerned, and I close the door behind myself after we leave.

"So, that is Rumpel?" Parfait muses as we walk. "I take it he tries to flirt with Karma with…negative results?"

"It's hilarious to watch," I tell her, "but they might be arguing for months. Otherwise, I wouldn't worry too much about Rumpel's curse. He tends to break that without any assistance from anyone else. Just make sure he goes into town sometimes where someone might recognize him and show him written entries about him." And now that Rumpel is here, I can try disbanding a few curses to see what happens…or perhaps it might be better to hide what I really am from the corrupted witches for just a while longer.

If I take no actions I cannot explain to Myth, perhaps he will give me the information I will need willingly. If he needs to be interrogated instead of tricked, I have no idea if a truth serum or spell will work on a witch of his caliber. I know that Waltz can get out of at least some spells, and Myth is nearly as talented.

I sigh, knowing that I need to wait just a while longer before I can attempt to break more curses.

…


	30. A Little Flirtation

**Chapter 30. A Little Flirtation**

After my own breakfast, Waltz and I go outside for lessons. As often as I am requiring sound barriers, this is what he teaches me this morning. It is essentially a very weak shield that only stops sound, but is cast in a dome, circle, or fit to the walls of a room, so I have no trouble learning this useful skill. Then we work on my ability to fix it in one place, make it move with me, and to tie it off so it maintains itself. Apparently, the principles involved are useful for placing and maintaining, or else moving, more than one type of spell so it is useful practice. However, I know that I am missing Karma and Rumpel first meeting each other. I hope Rumple can remember _not_ to flirt with Karma.

It occurs to me to wonder who is carrying Karma's packages since Waltz is here with me, and what errand takes him an entire day. Not that it matters, really. If I had to take a guess, I would say that the packages may contain alchemy ingredients for Parfait.

"Do you need a break, Lucette?" Waltz asks me once I have gotten both the spell and its variations perfect.

"It's nearly time for lunch," I reply. "I can take a break then." I don't feel _that_ tired. "If memory serves, Annice is making a special lunch today." And Rod tends to come to speak to Parfait. Even though his curse is gone, I believe that he may continue to do so. Parfait is probably the closest thing to a friend that he has. Aside from spending time with his sister, he rarely seeks companionship.

"You know," my husband says, looking at me, "I think you are more tired than you think you are."

Now that I have let go of the magic I was holding, I feel it more. However, that does not mean that I intend to give up so easily. "Really?" I say instead of agreeing with him.

"Yes, really," Waltz replies. "And I think I know of a way to get you to sit down for a few minutes. I merely have to offer you your favorite chair."

I cannot help but smile as Waltz sits down on a stump, and grins at me. "I suppose you think that your lap is my favorite place to sit?" I ask him. Apparently, he has decided that it is appropriate to try flirting with his own wife. And I find it very different from when Rumpel had tried to teach me to flirt; it is the difference between attempting to entice a man I have no interest in versus a playful dance with the man I love as he tries to get to know me all over again.

"Isn't it?" he replies, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye, apparently having as much fun with this as I am. Even sitting, he is tall enough to still be my eyelevel from his perch on the stump.

"I'm afraid that you are quite correct," I say, walking over to sit down in his lap. "I'm really not sure why some people are so fascinated with thrones when something like this is much more comfortable." I allow myself to relax, leaning against his chest.

"That puzzles me, too," Waltz says, and then gives a small start and I look up to find that Rod has just turned the corner around the inn, and from that vantage he can see us quite clearly. Waltz looks down at me to see if I want to move as my stepbrother approaches us, but I remain firmly in place. There is really no point in pretending when Rod has already seen us.

" _Oh, my_ ," Sebby says, still perched on Rod's shoulder. Even though Rod no longer needs Sebby, there is still some friendship present, and possibly habit as well.

"Is this how magic lessons are conducted?" my stepbrother asks.

"No," I answer. "This is how Waltz makes me take a break if he thinks I am overdoing it. He lets me have my new favorite chair. He knows that I am stubborn enough that very little else will distract me."

My husband's cheeks are a little pink, and Rod's eyebrows climb practically into his hairline. "You know that you are playing with fire, don't you Waltz?" he tells him.

"I happen to be very good with fire," Waltz replies, somehow managing to be a little tongue-in-cheek in spite of being caught by my brother with me in his lap. "I just do not have the occasion to use it that often."

" _Only another witch_ …" Sebby starts before Rod pinches it, telling it to be quiet.

I consider making a purring noise while cuddled against my husband's chest, but decide that might be overdoing it. Perhaps if Rod had compared Waltz to lion tamer instead….

"Your father sent me to check on you," Rod tells me. "I…see that you appear well and comfortable. Is there anything else you want me to tell him about?"

"As far as my education?" I ask, sitting up straighter. "Well, I can cast shields, deflect spells, and shoot lightning now. I've managed to avoid frying everyone in a five-hundred-foot radius, and I have not caused any earthquakes."

"Earthquakes?" Rod asks me dryly, as if he does not think me capable of the feat at this time.

"She put the energy into the air instead of the ground," Waltz explains, "thus the storm that first night instead of the earthquake that could have happened otherwise. There was really less damage done, that way."

Rod looks taken aback at this revelation. "I guess you got to a teacher just in time."

"The Tenebrarum seems to be…unstable," I tell him. "But that's been the only large energy surge I've had to deal with so far. Most of the time, there are only small ones." And those surges are approximate to how sad, fearful, or angry I am.

"I…see," Rod says quietly, his mind adjusting his new estimations of how dangerous I really am. He will tell Father that I will not be ready to come back to the palace anytime soon.

"When you go back to the palace, will you tell Father that he can come and see me, and that there is something I want to discuss with him?" I ask my stepbrother. "Please ask him this in private to decrease the likelihood of him being followed. You can come if you wish, but no one else. Parfait says she can have a witch and a sword meet him by the exit of the secret entrance to bring him here tonight, if he's willing to come."

"Does this 'something' involve the reason you are using Waltz as a chair?" Rod asks.

"It's related to that," I reply.

"Fine," Rod tells me. "I'll let him know when I get back." He looks around. "I think I'll speak to Parfait for a few minutes before I go. If there is nothing else…I'll leave the two of you to…whatever you were doing."

"Would you like some lunch before you go?" I ask, unabashed although Waltz still appears slightly pink. I'm sure he didn't mean for my stepbrother to walk in on this, but he would be even more pink had Rod caught us kissing, which I am sure would have happened had he come a few minutes later. "I think Annice has some sort of a special meal nearly prepared."

"Only if you promise to use a different chair during lunch," he replies with a sigh.

…

I am no longer uncomfortable with the lively and friendly atmosphere of the Marchen's private dining room, and do not pretend that I am. I spend all of my time in the company of the other witches, but I have been congenial with rest of the other borders. Instead of sitting as far down the table as I can, I sit beside Karma who sits across from Rod. My stepbrother had chosen the seat next to Parfait, who sits at the end of the table. Waltz immediately sits down on my other side.

"Is this better Rod?" I ask my brother, scooting up in a wooden chair as opposed to using my husband as such.

Rod just looks at me for a moment before answering, "So, you've managed to discover a sense of humor as well, if a dry one. Miracles never cease."

"What was funny about that?" Karma asks from beside me.

"Never mind," my brother says, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Ok…" Karma trails off, not noticing Waltz grinning from the other side of me. Either Waltz thought it funny as well, or he is happy that he is not the only target of my teasing. "Princess?" Karma asks, turning to face me.

"Yes?" I respond.

"I…understand from Rumpel that you warned him against flirting with me," he says, gesturing to the recovering man seated at the other end table with Annice, Fritz, and Garlan. "Thank you."

I nod, happy that Rumpel remembered what I had told him. "You are welcome. He appeared to be trying to flirt with anything in a skirt, and I thought you would not appreciate that kind of…attention from him."

"You are certainly right there," Karma says, grimacing. "I have enough trouble with idiots as it is, never mind someone with a head injury." Then he pauses. "Anything in a skirt? I take it he tried flirting with you?"

I nod. "And Delora."

Rod, who is watching this exchange carefully, asks, "And he survived without further injuries?"

"I'm pretty sure that Delora realized that if she hit him with anything, he'd only stay in his condition even longer," I note. "I told her she could have him if she wanted him, but she did not seem interested for some reason." I am not sure, but I think I hear something that sounds suspiciously like a giggle from Parfait's direction.

"That's not…exactly what I meant," Rod says.

"Why would I do anything to him?" I ask. "He quit pestering me after a single, firm refusal. He seems harmless enough. If anything, he's probably something of a danger to himself."

My stepbrother appears a little surprised. "You didn't even turn him into a frog."

I stare at him blankly. "Why would I do that?" I ask. "And it's not like I could yet, even if I wanted to. We haven't covered curses so far…people around here seem much more anxious for me to figure out how I dispelled yours. Besides, I have no intention of kissing any frogs myself—which is the traditional way to end that curse—and I wouldn't make Emelaigne do it either."

"I'm sure she appreciates that consideration," Rod remarks.

I merely blink at Rod, and turn back to Karma. "Anyway, I thought it was the least I could do, considering that you have been nice to Fritz. This whole ordeal isn't exactly easy for either of us, but at least I have my lessons to occupy me. He really needs a friend right now."

Karma's smile appears at least slightly guilty, and I can tell he feels bad because at least some of his motivation is to make me like him enough to want to break his curse. But I think that he may genuinely like Fritz, and possibly has realized that Fritz has feelings for me. After all, he somehow figured out that Garlan was in love with Jurien.

Waltz and I have not exactly bothered to be discrete, and I am certain that the other boarders and the customers have at least started talking about us. It is known of fact that Waltz was my mother's apprentice who betrayed her, and it could be correctly guessed that I was the reason for that betrayal. In spite of our age differences, it would not surprise me if some thought that I had been infatuated with Waltz even back then, had turned to ice without his presence in my life—that I was simply overjoyed to have him back again. Rather few people actually know that my memories of Waltz had been erased.

I feel badly that I have cooped Fritz up in the inn where he has a front row seat to my romance with another man, but if I let him out I'm certain he will become cursed…or perhaps worse at this point. His father _has_ killed him before.

I distract myself from these morose thoughts with pleasant conversation and good food, until Karma brings up practice tonight, and if I'll be there.

"Actually, _you_ won't be able to practice tonight," Parfait tells Karma. "We are inviting the king over tonight, and you and Waltz are assigned as his escort. Delora might come if there is nothing pressing elsewhere. Waltz knows where the secret passage exit is…and you two need to take the king here in a roundabout way so he can't find his way here without help." With Myth still there as his advisor, she does not feel it safe to let my father know exactly where I am.

"I take it that Garlan and I need to be out on a long patrol tonight?" Jurien asks.

"That…might be best," Parfait agrees, knowing my father would be less inclined to trust Parfait if it is known she associates with the knights he allowed to be dismissed. "Annice will put a scarf in the window when you can come back inside."

It occurs to me that in all my revolutions, this is the first time we haven't been discussing my curse right now. Instead, we are discussing getting my father here so I can ask him about marrying my husband. Sometimes I wonder if, in addition to Order and Chaos, there is a third god called Irony….

When we are finishing, and Rod is preparing to leave, he asks me, "What kind of practice was Karma inquiring about?"

"Sword," I answer. "It's not as relevant now that I can use magic, but I've always enjoyed the exercise."

Now, Rod looks confused. "What…?"

"I'm much better at it than you," I say, as a matter-of-fact. "I've never known how you could be so terrible at fencing, yet a good dancer. Both feats require some amount of footwork and precision."

Rod stares at me, as if wondering how I knew of his qualifications, or the lack thereof, in either feat. _I surprised him a few days ago by letting him know that I was aware of his sister's tells, and now he knows that I have been paying him some attention as well._

"She won't tell us who trained her," Garlan tells him, "but she's as good as most of the knights, and better than many of them."

Rod stares at me. "Do you hide things just because you can?"

"No," I tell him, "I usually hide things because there is a practical reason to do so. Or sometimes, no one bothers to ask me so it merely _looks_ as if I am hiding something when they find out about it."

"What else are you hiding?" he asks.

 _The cycling, that Waltz and I are already married, the baby, that Mother did not die at the end of the war…._ "I think I am entitled to keep the secrets I wish to…and some secrets I am privy to are simply someone else's business. For example, I have no intention of telling anyone about the details of the curse you once had." I only did that last time because I had to.

"I…can appreciate that," he tells me, getting up from the table and I follow him out into the reception area and around the corner where we are alone. "Was there something else?"

"Yes, actually," I tell him, and then describe the rings Waltz and I used at our wedding during the last cycle in detail, and request that he bring them. And then I scribble the descriptions and sizes down for him, just in case he forgets, and hand him the note. "He's been supporting himself as a street entertainer for years," I continue to explain, "so I thought I should supply the necessary rings."

"And you just happened to have them picked out, even before leaving the palace," Rod says, staring at me. "And I am sure you know what size of ring fits. Were you _planning_ to get engaged before you left home?"

"Secret," I simply say, remembering the day Varg had followed me to the vault, and he had remarked that I had picked two different men's rings because there were two potential grooms. And I am doubly glad that I did not have to marry Myth last time; even if I had indeed killed him as I had been planning to, we would be married right now and he would remember me killing him! _Talk about a complicated relationship…._

My brother sighs, and leans against the wall. "You are very serious about this. You do realize the implications of this relationship with Waltz, should it continue?"

"Of my intended being another witch? That he is a street performer instead of another noble? My taking _more_ magic into the royal bloodline?" I ask, and then I continue. "Or perhaps on a personal level, that I found the man that defied and betrayed the most dangerous witch in the world in order to save me? Maybe that I decided to reclaim the childhood sweetheart that my mother tried to deny me?" I realize that 'childhood sweetheart' is a little bit of a stretch, but I did remember telling Waltz that I would marry him someday while we were playing with puppets. And, a childhood sweetheart is something my stepbrother could identify with.

As I thought he would be, Rod is silent for a moment, and looks almost sad. I continue. "If you had a second chance with her, and you realized that she had feelings for you, would you let her get away or claim her?"

"I'd offer her an engagement ring as soon as I was reasonably certain she would take it," Rod admits sadly. "How…but you said your memory of him was…patchy."

"I keep remembering more…erased memories coming back to me in dreams," I admit. "The other night…I saw Mother making Waltz watch while she erased my memories of him. Near the start, I was as concerned for how scared Waltz was as I was for myself, but by the end…I had stopped crying because I had no idea what I was crying about. I had no idea who the horrified boy in the corner was. In that case, I'm sorry that I remembered."

Rod's eyes go steely cold for a moment. "And I'm sorry that I asked. Your mother…caused a lot of pain to a lot of people. As fond as you had been of her, I had assumed you may not have been one of her victims."

I shake my head. "I was…she just erased my memories of it, to try to control me, and it's difficult to make correct decisions with faulty or incomplete information."

"Fine," he says. "I'll get what you want. Waltz might even be good for you."

"You hope that he can save me from myself," I say, causing my stepbrother to start. "That if I love him, I will then be able to stave off the corruption that took my mother, and Angielle will not be pulled into darkness under another corrupted witch queen. There's no sense in us not being straight with each other."

"I'm certainly relieved that you are concerned about it," Rod admits. "I think...yes…there is hope for you, and the rest of Angielle."

After Rod leaves, I turn around and start around the corner, but stop in my tracks when I nearly run into Waltz. "So…you remembered your mother erasing your memories?" he asks, putting up a very small sound ward.

I swallow. "It's not only the fond memories that sometimes work their way back."

My husband grimaces. "I could wish that the unpleasant ones could remain lost. That day…was one of the worst I had ever experienced."

"What led to it?" I ask, quietly.

"Your mother had found that I was seeing you," he begins. "She did not believe either of us when we told her that nothing…inappropriate was going on, nor would it. She also did not like that you had affection for someone other than herself and…there was another issue she was having with me. She tried separating us for several months, but you kept asking to see me. You missed me, as much as I missed you."

"Which was when she decided to erase those memories?" I ask, and Waltz nods.

"She made me watch," he says quietly. "She wanted to punish me, and you held the only string tied to my heart. You stopped crying as she finished erasing your memories…not even realizing what you had forgotten. And that was when I truly saw her for what she was, knew that she would try to turn you into another version of her, and realized that she had to be stopped for your sake if for no other reason. At the next opportunity, I started seeking Parfait."

I nod. "And you never knew that even with my memories erased, a part of me still missed you."

My husband starts. "What? You didn't even recognize me, so how did you…."

"Let me show you something," I say, and lead him up to Delora's room. Now, I place the sound shield as I motion him into the room, and he closes the door as I rummage in the box of my belongings. Finally, I find it, and turn around to reveal the crude but special puppet.

"You…you kept it?" Waltz asks, surprised when I put it in his hands.

"I always liked it," I tell him, "so I never threw it out. I think that I associated it with being happy. During one of the other cycles you told me that this was the first puppet you made, when I was teaching you how to sew. I think that…even though I couldn't remember you, somehow I still missed what you were to me. I still remembered that I had been happy, once, and that there was a void where there had once been joy."

"Do you have any idea what you are doing to my poor heart?" my husband asks me.

I tilt my head as I look at him and smile. "Stealing it, perhaps?"

He gives a quiet laugh. "You are making very good progress in that."

"Is that not what you want?" I ask, seriously. "I would not want you to feel…trapped. I know that I have laid a lot on your shoulders."

"Like when you told me that what I thought had only been my dream was real, and we were married—bound to each other?" he asks. "Or that you are carrying my baby?"

"Yes, like those things," I answer, and we are both quiet for a moment while he continues to look at the puppet in his hands.

"I missed you, too…ever so much," he says, quietly. "I had wanted nothing more than to see you again…for you to recognize me as your friend. And then I woke after having that dream, and it was so real I almost expected to find you beside me and that my curse had been a dream instead…but you weren't there. I was alone, in a child's body, and 'reality' crashed down on me once again. I was shocked when you told me that it had been real." He is silent for a few more moments before continuing. "I did not simply happen to see you in the street; I caught a quick glimpse of your face and followed you as your stepbrother led you into the Marchen where I knew that I couldn't help but see you every day. You did not simply tell me that you remembered me, but you broke my curse as well allowing me to be who I am." Then he smiles, and shakes his head slightly. "You did not just tell me that you wanted to be my friend once more, but that you were already my wife…my _pregnant_ wife."

"And you are stunned," I say, "like a starving man presented with a feast. You have no idea where to begin."

"Exactly," my husband says, nodding as if relieved that I understand him. "It's everything I never dared to hope for, all at once. And…it comes with the caveat that I know that I could lose it all once again." A slight frown creases his brow. "Under the circumstances, you are not simply offering me you, and a family of my own. If you remember, you have told me how hairy these cycles of yours can get. You are also offering me the place beside you in a battleline."

"Is there somewhere else you would prefer to stand?" I ask him, just a little dryly.

He smiles at me and shakes his head. "You are worth fighting for. If anything, I would prefer standing in front of you, so you don't get hurt. But…the gravity of the situation can't be ignored."

"And in the future, we will deal with that. Typically, very little happens in the first month or so of the cycle. But at the present," I half note, half ask, "you seem to enjoy kissing me anyway, and a little flirtation."

"I do enjoy that," he admits, his cheeks going just a touch pink. "I just wish people wouldn't walk in on us, and I can't exactly tell them to go away because I'm trying to court my wife."

"That…was not the first time something like that happened. Unfortunately, interruption seems to simply be a part of wooing," I say, remembering how people would occasionally catch us kissing in the sitting room when we were courting before I went to the palace. At least now, if the Marchen's residents and customers are making similar bets for how long it will be before our relationship advances, I have heard nothing about it. Even if they are, I do not think anyone has placed their wager on us having a wedding as soon as tonight. If I had to take a guess, most of the people here are surprised that my behavior does not fit their presuppositions of me, but have not yet formed any other firm opinion of me.

"At least, we will have greater opportunity for privacy after our next wedding. You know," I continue, "if everything goes well, we might have another wedding ceremony as early as this evening. I don't doubt that Parfait will 'just happen' to have a judge or a priest tucked in the common room when Father gets here."

"And if your father withholds his permission?" my husband asks me. We both know that technically speaking, as my father's heir, I would need his permission to marry before I reach majority by turning eighteen, although it is quite common for girls to marry as young as sixteen. However, it would not have been impossible for me to find a clergyman willing to perform a ceremony without my father's permission. Chaos priests are actually a little infamous for this, as opposed to their more rigid Order counterparts. In fact, to be married by a Chaos priest usually indicates to everyone else that the couple in question had been more motivated by passion than reason. If we told my father that we had already found such a priest that had performed the ceremony and then we had consummated our marriage, there would be nothing he could do about it. Of course, I would have to break Chevalier's curse so he could tend to my father's heart attack….

"I'll just tell him that it's too late, and I had already thought that it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission, and we already married in secret," I tell him. "But I do not think that will be necessary. First, he owes you everything…his kingdom, power, freedom from my mother, the opportunity to marry the woman he loved and was kept from, and possibly his life. He did nothing to reward you then, and now he must give serious consideration to anything you ask of him…even if you ask for me.

"Secondly, it doesn't hurt that for all he knows, you might be able to keep me from the corruption that took my mother. The willingness to advantage oneself at the expense of others is the very hallmark of corruption, and love is the antithesis of that. My father would probably let me have any man I was willing to open my heart to, so long as he was convinced that my intended would return my affections rather than seek to merely use me.

"Finally, I can tell him truthfully that the Tenebrarum may break and result in my death, but say that I want to try to provide an heir before that is likely to happen. This way, he won't be surprised if I can end the cycles this time, and the baby shows up right away," I tell him, hoping that I can indeed get them to stop this time. "Not to mention the fact that hiding my pregnancy will be impossible before long, anyway."

"That…would probably work," he says. "Though I wish that kind of manipulation was unnecessary. He loves you, and knowing that he might lose you…even if it is a legitimate possibility…would only cause him pain."

I sigh. "I don't like that tactic either, but what else can we do? There can only be two explanations for a pregnancy; first, that we did or are doing this on purpose, and second some variation of 'oops.' The only other thing I can think of would be to tell him that we went to bed without getting married, which would be an outright lie rather than even a partial truth, and would reflect poorly on both of us. I hadn't let a single person get close to me or even smiled at anyone for four years, so he will not believe that going to bed was _my_ idea. It will be hard enough for him to believe Rod when he tells him that he found me sitting in your lap, or that I wanted Rod to retrieve 'engagement' rings from the vault.

"Father has such an awful opinion of witches overall," I continue. "In spite of what you have done to defeat my mother, he might think that if you are greedy or impatient enough to bed me before marrying me—not to mention given the fact that we've only been reunited for a few days—that you might be at risk for corruption. That might actually worry him more than this 'alternative explanation.' The very last man he would want me with is a witch that is susceptible to corruption, that might in turn corrupt me."

"And the reason he cannot know the entire truth?" Waltz asks.

This is something I have been considering for some time. "The cycles end once the dangers have been either defeated, or realized, rather than at a specific point in time," I explain. "If Father is told, and he believes me, the threats from Alcaster and Myth could be ended before they begin to become serious. Mother won't come into play unless I release her, if she's even still alive. Not only can I not tell Father what is happening, but I have to leave at least one of the threats intact until I know how to stop the cycles and plan appropriately."

"I…understand," my husband tells me. "I do not like it, but I see the necessity."

"Thank you Waltz," I tell him appreciatively. "I hope to be able to tell my Father about this all someday, but in the meanwhile…." I look around Delora's room. "I presume that I would be moving into your room? You might have to rearrange your furniture to accommodate either a larger bed if there is one, or the one here could be moved."

"I…suppose so," Waltz tells me, as if he had not really given thought to the practicalities our approaching nuptials imply yet.

I smile up at him. "Don't worry. In private, we can go as slow as you wish. We'll simply have to go to bed early, leave up a sound barrier, and sleep in and no one will think anything unusual is going on."

My husband turns red. "And everyone will think…."

"That we are behaving like newlyweds. Given that I might be getting nauseous and easily fatigued within a few weeks, that's the objective here," I remind him.

"Right," he says, coming to himself as I return to my box to get his winged box with the key and hand them to him.

"Why don't you go put those things in your room now?" I ask. "I think I'm due for a lesson with Delora."

"Of course," he says, and I open the door for him to find Fritz standing there with his hand raised as if to knock. Fritz steps out of the way, allowing Waltz to continue to his room with his arms full. Somehow, I do not doubt that Waltz will spend perhaps several hours just sitting or lying down in his room, thinking, as he tries to process everything that has happened in the last several days, and what is about to occur. Then, he will move his belongings around in his room, making a place for me to dwell with him.

"Did you need something?" I ask Fritz who is still standing there, watching Waltz return to his own room.

"Err…Delora is waiting for you by the back door," my knight says as his gaze returns to me.

"Thank you, Fritz," I tell him, and leave to go find Delora.

…


	31. A Somber Occasion

**Chapter 31. A Somber Occasion**

The Marchen is closed for the night, and the boarders have been warned to stay out of the upstairs sitting area unless called for. I believe that Annice has water on to boil in case my father wishes tea as she continues to occupy herself in the kitchen, and she is keeping Rumpel busy and out of the way cataloging the medicinal herbs as he started showing an interest in them. I had suggested that he should be offered the task, and he immediately took to it like a duck to water. Having done the job myself, I know that it should keep him busy for several hours at least. He will probably even make a list of herbs that he thinks we should have stocked, but are lacking.

There is also a black robed Chaos priest sitting in the corner of the common room, drinking tea as he waits to see if his services will be needed tonight. When Fritz noticed him, my knight became distinctly more uneasy. I don't know if Fritz suspects what might be happening tonight, or if Chaos priests make him tense in general. I know that some people avoid priests of Chaos simply because they find Order so much more…comfortable. Not everyone copes well with change.

But life is not merely about seeking comfort and predictability. No one develops as person very well in monotony…and I have grown to abhor monotony having wearied of it. A Chaos priest suites me well enough.

Jurien and Garlan have left the inn completely, and I think I overheard Karma suggesting they should go 'enjoy themselves' somewhere while waiting until it was time to return. Garlan had looked uneasy at that, but Jurien had apparently decided Karma was referencing food before they left, not even noticing Garlan's discomfort. I can only assume that Karma has been trying to get Garlan to confess to Jurien again, and has urged him to use this opportunity to do so. I wish Garlan would get on with it; his hesitancy to confess never does them any good. Sometimes, the last chance he has to do so successfully passes by before he realizes it.

And that leaves Parfait, Fritz, and I in the sitting area upstairs, waiting somewhat awkwardly. We try playing cards for a while, but Fritz only stares at his hand without participating until he finally excuses himself to pick a random book from the shelf and pretends to read it instead. He never turns a page, and looks miserable. I glance at the title, and wonder if he even knows that he is pretending to read "Proper Etiquette for Young Ladies, Volume 3."

On the other hand, I am not doing that much better. "I don't know what use it is," I say, after noticing my third mistake as Parfait picks up from my discard pile only to reveal that she has won the hand. I am currently bleeding a small current of unbidden power out the window, but it is not enough to cause problems of any kind.

"It can still be alright, Lucette," the fairy tells me gently. "And it's perfectly natural to be nervous in this kind of situation."

"Why can't anything ever be simple?" I sigh. How I long for the day that I will not have to manipulate those dearest to me anymore. I have no compunctions about tying my enemies into metaphorical knots with my words, but Father….

"Because life is complicated," Parfait answers, "especially for those that wield power and responsibility. For better or worse, this is what you were born to."

I pause for a moment, and hand my cards to Parfait so she can shuffle them for the next hand. "Is this why you never married, so your own children would not have to go through the kinds of things that I must experience, and the only way to prevent it would be to have no children?"

Her hands pause after taking my cards for a long moment before she returns them to the stack. "Yes," she finally answers me.

" _Someone_ always will have to carry burdens," I tell her. "Just because you don't provide the next Bearer of your burden does not mean that the burden will grow lesser, much less disappear. Your choice only means that you will have less concern over the next person to carry the burden than you would if they were you own child."

"That…is what I thought would happen," Parfait admits, "but I am not sure that is necessarily so, anymore. I might not have spared myself at all, so that sacrifice means precisely nothing."

And I know that she is starting to care for me, as she might have cared for her own daughter. Sometimes, I find it a little odd that in the absence of my natural mother, I am presented with so many other potential maternal figures. Parfait, Delora, Ophelia…. I find it peculiar that out of the three, the woman my father married is actually the one that I know and admire the least of the three. It is not that I dislike Ophelia anymore, I actually consider her a very nice person, but I simply do not know her that well. Only in my cycles with Rod did I interact with her much at all, and then I was a servant though a friend to her children. We did not talk all that much. On the other hand, I do not know if Ophelia has any faults of significance, while Parfait….

"That was selfish of you, as well as cowardly, to avoid pain so someone else would experience it in your stead. Upon your death, someone else in your family will have to suffer through what you hid from," comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.

The cards Parfait had been shuffling drop from her hands onto the table, her eyes wide in shock.

"I'm sorry, Parfait," I apologize. "Perhaps I should not have mentioned that." I have no doubt that it is true, but perhaps she has grown from her own mistakes as I have learned from mine. I know that I hate having my own faults thrust in my face, and having to prove that I am not a monster each time the cycle restarts. On the other hand, I must face this almost constantly, while I doubt very many people at all have ever told Parfait that she was selfish or cowardly. It occurs to me to wonder if my mother ever had done so, either before or after her own corruption. I remember, from during another cycle, my mother saying that Parfait always ran.

The fairy takes a deep breath, and shakes her head slowly. "No…no, you are right Lucette," she admits sadly, meeting my eyes. "I was selfish in my youth…and fainthearted as well. I am not too old to bear a child now, but…I have little enough vitality left from my injuries suffered four years ago, that I do not wish to risk that I might die while carrying one. I probably would not live long enough to raise one into adulthood, at the very least. Even if I knew I would live long enough to give birth I…do not know that I would want one when we would be separated so soon."

"That I can understand," I admit. This is the very same worry I am facing myself. If the Tenebrarum shatters, not only would I die, but my child would never see the light of day, never see my face, or his father's face. Of all the tragedies I have seen during my cycles, that one would be the most personal of them all…the most painful. "Were you strong enough to last decades rather than years, and times less tumultuous, is that something you would change?"

The fairy frowns slightly. "Perhaps…but I see no way for that to happen. I have to live with the consequences not only of what I have done, but of what I have not done as well. I try not to dwell on the things I know will never be. To do so is to only cause oneself misery."

I almost startle as Fritz sighs heavily from behind the book he is pretending to read. I had nearly forgotten that he was there for a moment. Perhaps Parfait means her words as much for my knight as she does for herself, and he is as obviously listening to us as he is ignoring the book in his hands.

I wish that I wasn't causing Fritz pain, but there is not another way. By the end of the night, I will be openly married to the man I love again…. _Why must joy always be tinged with sorrow, and relief with anxiety?_

"When did you decide to stop running?" I find myself asking Parfait.

The fairy puts the cards carefully in a pile, not even bothering to pretend that there is any interest left in them. "Four years ago," she tells me quietly. "It was when Waltz came before me, begging me to save you from Hildyr. He knew that he could not fight her alone—he might have tried had he thought he could—and provided me with the opportunity to face your mother…once my dearest friend. She had to be defeated, I had decided that some time before that when the consequences of a corrupted witch queen ruling Angielle became too much to bear, but when a way opened I could not refuse to face her. There was no one more suitable for the task than I, and I…had to do my duty as painful as it was. I assembled as large of a strike team as I dared, and we left immediately."

"And you and Mother both damaged each other in your fight, and this damaged the Crystallum as well when the two of you clashed," I note. "You still bear your scars, and are physically weak because of them."

Parfait grimaces. "I am physically weak as a consequence of my own mistakes. I thought the storyteller's collections of fables were benign, I thought my own fairies would attempt to protect the witches when the persecution of them began, I though your mother wise enough to find a good solution—and I was wrong each time. It did not occur to me that she would chose corruption. Perhaps she thought it the only way she could preserve the witches she was responsible for defending, at first anyway. The corrupt are not bound against directly harming humans."

"If you are trying to tell me that you deserve your frailty…" I start, but she interrupts.

"How could I not?" she asks wryly.

"Everyone makes mistakes," I tell her, and the fairy smiles at me.

"That is true…but thousands of people suffered for mine," Parfait tells me, and I can only assume she means everyone affected by the war, as if she believes the war her fault. "Including you."

"I can speak for no one else," I tell her, "but I do not hold it as a debt against you."

Parfait is silent for a long moment as she looks at me. "You are far kinder than I deserve," she finally says. "Short of those that have lost their lives to the war or fallen to corruption…few have suffered for my choices more than you."

"There is a difference between causing something, and failing to prevent it," I try to tell her.

"Not enough of one," Parfait sighs.

"Until you are able to forgive yourself," I say without thinking, seeing her own cracked Crystallum in my own memory, "the Lucis will remain cracked. You cannot repair it, because you do not try to repair yourself. Your own guilt robs you of joy, your depression steals your happiness, your fear of betrayal and pain keeps you from having close relationships with others. You remain kind to people in general, but you do not truly allow yourself to love. You have never seen the beauty and love that can occur in the midst of pain…that would never have occurred without it. You have never found the balance you once told me to seek."

Parfait's eyes widen, and I think that I have surprised her once more. But then…I surprised myself as well. I really have no idea why or how that came out of my mouth, but I know it to be truth. Before either of us can say anything else, I hear the back door of the Marchen open and then shut, and my mind turns to tonight's task.

I turn my head as I hear the sound of footfalls on the back stairs. In mere moments, Delora comes up the stairs, followed by my father, Rod, and finally my husband. I guess that Karma has excused himself to go to the common room, preferring to stay out of my family business.

My father's eyes land on me, and I can tell immediately that he is concerned about something. And I know that Waltz has breached the subject. Rod probably thought that we had been only considering an engagement, given what I had and had not told him, so my father had been prepared to discuss that, but an immediate marriage….

"Father," I greet him softly, getting up from my chair beside Parfait. Two more chairs scrap on the floor as Fritz gets up from his to bow before my father, and Parfait stands and inclines her head.

"Lucette," he says, looking at me before sparing a nod for Fritz and Parfait.

"Would you care to sit down?" I ask, gesturing to two small couches that face each other with a small table between them.

My father nods, and he and Rod sit on one couch, while Waltz and I take the other. From my vantage point, I can see Fritz and Parfait sitting back down at the table that is now behind and to the side of the couch my father is using. I do not see Delora, but I have more important things to worry over other than where she has disappeared to.

As I sit down, my father addresses me. "Lucette…Waltz informs me that the two of you wish to marry…and as soon as possible."

I nod. "That's right."

My father's face creases with a small frown. "I would rather have you with him than with many other men, and I would consent to an engagement, but this is something I am not comfortable with rushing. He tells me that you prefer to explain the haste yourself. Why are you insistent on it?"

That he is accepting my choice of having Waltz as my husband is good, and will make this easier, but now I have a choice between manipulating my father or hiding my pregnancy…and there is no way I can hide the fact that I am pregnant for the four or five months he would consider an 'appropriate' engagement period. With the full truth already off the table, I take my gamble on a partial truth instead. "You know that the Tenebrarum is unstable?"

My father's frown deepens. "Rod has mentioned that, but what does that have to do with…."

"If I am unable to keep it intact and it breaks," I explain, "the Lucis will be destroyed as well. There will be no more magic in Angielle, and the ordinary witches and fairies alike will merely lose their power."

My father blinks. "And the people of Angielle will be free from their curses?"

"Yes," I answer. "But I am capable of breaking curses myself as it is. I just have to figure out what I did when I dispelled Rod's curse."

"I…would not mind the citizens being free of their curses either way," my father says carefully, as if he already suspects he will not like my answer to the obvious question, "but you said that the 'ordinary' witches and fairies would 'merely lose their power,' implying something different could happen to you."

I nod, and feel Waltz grab my hand from beside me. I hold onto it tight. "The current Bearers, Parfait and I, would die. We would fade and turn to dust, more specifically."

The reactions of the men around me are immediate, and vary. Rod merely jerks his head and grimaces, looking between me and Parfait who still sits in the corner with Fritz, but he does appear worried. He would miss Parfait more than myself, but recognizes this would put his sister next in line for the throne and she would be happier elsewhere. Fritz drops the book he was pretending to read, and stares into space in front of him for a long moment before he turns to look at me in pure horror. Waltz's gaze remains stead on me, my hand tightly clasped in his, clearly saying that whatever comes he will remain beside me. My father….

My father is now ashen, eyes hollow, and it takes him a moment to speak. I have seen this look on his face before, during the last cycle when I revealed the details of Rod's curse. One of his children is in mortal danger, and even as the king, he is powerless in the face of the threat. Wealth and power mean nothing in the face of this predicament. If it were only a disease, in theory he could find and pay the Witch Doctor to take care of the matter, but even she would be helpless in this. "How…" he starts hoarsely as if his mouth has gone dry, "how…likely is this to occur?"

"I wish I knew. It would help if I knew what was destabilizing the Tenebrarum in the first place," I answer, as if I did not know but not technically saying that I am ignorant of what caused this. "In all likelihood, I will be able to tell if I have succeeded or failed in about a year. However, that might give me enough time to…ensure the continuation of the royal line; thus the reason I would like to marry immediately." In a year, I will know if my son lives on, or if he vanishes as if he was never there…I will know either success or failure.

"I…see," my father answers softly. Whatever he expected me to tell him, it was not this. He might even be wishing that I had merely told him that I wanted to share Waltz's bed…or even that I had done so; that I had a foolish reason for not waiting for a proper, longer courtship instead of a sword hovering over my neck. Or at least…he might be wishing that until he decides what else that option might imply, and I will not allow my father to even consider that Waltz might be at risk for corruption when my mother's best efforts to bring it about failed.

Unfortunately, there really is a sword hovering over me. If I cannot get the Tenebrarum to its previous state within six months, it will still probably try to protect my son, but shatter completely while doing so. All three of us…my son, Parfait, and I…would die. And I have no idea if I would remain dead, or if another cycle would start but with my son gone.

"I was born to bear burdens, Father," I tell him, "and the Tenebrarum was not the only one. In theory, I suppose Emelaigne could take the throne after you, but she would be miserable there." She would be a legitimate heir to the throne, as the adopted daughter of the king, but I as his blood daughter—or my own blood heir—would take precedence. I continue. "She misses the freedoms of a common girl as it is, feels judged by every noble she comes into contact with, but does not usually mention this to others because she does not want to appear ungrateful for becoming a princess. She wears her heart on her sleeve, which would make her easy to manipulate. If she becomes queen…she will not be the one that rules, and the success of that reign will depend on who _does_. In fact, were you to lose my line completely, you might consider marrying her off in a way that would make her ineligible to the throne of Angielle—unless you can find her a husband that would be fit to rule for her—and have Rod be your heir," I finish.

"You are right about my sister," Rod says quietly. "Emelaigne…is exactly as you say. But…I don't think myself fit for the crown either."

"She is stronger than you in some ways," I tell my brother, "but she has yet to learn to accept some bitter truths that you acknowledge."

"I…never knew that she was having difficulty to that degree," my father says slowly.

"Do not always believe that she is happy when she smiles. Aside from its normal usage, a smile is also her mask when she tries to hide pain," I tell my father. "At any rate, if there is a reasonable chance I will not be there to sit on the throne after you, it is my duty to provide you with a grandchild that could do so in my stead." And in my father's eyes, I only see pain, and can almost hear him thinking about what I had told him in our last conversation in the palace…that I do not take my duty lightly. _Gods, I wish I didn't have to do it this way. I hate manipulating him. At what point do the ends stop justifying the means?_

At least he does not believe me one small step from corruption, unable to use the name he gave me, as he agrees to whatever I wish of him in order to save my brother's life. At least he knows that I love him this time.

"Lucette," Waltz tells me, "if you want to marry and bear a child immediately, I am agreeable to that. But you aren't dying if there is anything at all I can do about it!"

I smile at my husband. "I know, but I prefer to prepare for that eventuality just in case. If things go well, we could live long lives happily together. If not, well, we can enjoy what time we do have and I know that you'll be a wonderful father."

"Fine," Waltz tells me, "but you are _not_ going to die." And, perhaps without knowing, he is convincing my father that he might be the final bulwark between myself and death, and not merely the man I consider most fit to father my child. Waltz is probably only trying to lessen my father's distress, but he is accomplishing more than that. My father knows that Waltz is a very able witch, and could probably help me with magical problems better than anyone else. It even helps that he was the apprentice of the last Tenebrarum Bearer…he might be aware of things concerning the Tenebrarum that I need to know but my mother never told me. In fact, Father might suppose that I might be unable to survive without Waltz's aid, and few things motivate a man more than the need to save his wife from death, especially if she is carrying his child.

"I don't intend to, but that doesn't mean that willpower alone will make me successful! It's always prudent to prepare for the worst," I tell him. "I intend to fight as long and as hard as I can. You know how stubborn I am."

"You could give a badger lessons in how to be stubborn, and a lion lessons in strength," Waltz tells me dryly, finally wearing a small smile that I return.

After a moment, I turn back to my father. "Does that answer your question, and may we proceed?"

My father sighs heavily. I have asked him…but I have not really given him another reasonable choice. "I wish there were better circumstances, but yes, you have my consent to wed Waltz whenever you wish. With the current situation…I cannot give you the wedding you deserve, the wedding I would want you to have…and I have given you so little else."

I cannot tell him that I have already had a large wedding, though one fraught with intrigue, a counter-coup, and an execution. This wedding will be much less…dramatic, and I consider that a good thing. I won't have to kill anyone at my nuptials, this time. I suppose most brides do not really worry about that, and I briefly wonder what kinds of things a 'normal' bride _does_ worry about. I have never been 'normal' myself, in any of my relationships or accomplishments, actually. "I really don't care about the size or splendor of the wedding, Father. Honestly, I would prefer a quiet wedding anyway. However, if you care to stay a bit longer I'm sure Parfait can quickly get someone that can hear vows. I…would like you to be there."

My father smiles at me. "At least I can give you that."

…

In addition to being a much quieter wedding than the last, this one is also something of a somber affair. Everyone understands it as a necessity for one reason or another, as opposed to a joyous occasion like most weddings are. I suppose my inability to do anything at all in a normal fashion extends even into how I wed.

Delora reappears from wherever she had gone, the priest is roused from the common room, and Karma returns as well. Annice does not attend, as she has been told to keep Rumpel busy until after my father leaves. I am certain that he would say something inappropriate at the worst possible time, and my father really does not need to hear whatever might come out of his mouth. As Rod hands me our rings before the ceremony starts, I overhear Fritz telling Karma, "At least now…I know why. I'll tell you later."

"You are certain about this?" my father asks me. "There is no going back once this is done." And I know that he means not only will I be bound to my vows as a witch, but it is reference to the child he believes we might start trying to conceive as soon as tonight also. Considering his own experience, he can guess that if a witch intends to conceive a child, one will be conceived immediately. I sincerely doubt that my mother took him to her bed more than once…he only remembered forgetting the one night.

And I have never wanted to tell him the entire truth so much, but what I say is, "I am certain. Waltz has never been anything but good to me, and I trust that he will never be otherwise."

My father nods slowly, and we all take our places for the ceremony to begin. I smile up at Waltz as we join hands, and while he smiles back at me I still read that he is a bit nervous. But he is still steady as we repeat our vows to each other, and his kiss still warm when the priest declares us wed.

After the ceremony is done, the priest talks with Parfait a moment before taking his leave, and Delora and Karma rise from their chairs ready to escort my father and brother back to the palace at their leisure. Fritz disappears, but downstairs as opposed to in the direction of his own room. I guess that he does not want to be alone right now and is looking for distractions, or he does not want to overhear Waltz and I doing anything through the thin walls between the rooms. He might not guess that we intend to leave a sound barrier up around our room permanently. At the very least, we will be discussing things we would rather keep private.

My father settles his cloak around his shoulders and, sensing that it is what he wishes, I let go of Waltz's hand long enough to hug my father. "I hope that you can find happiness with him," he tells me.

"I really don't know how I could do anything else," I tell my father, looking up at him, still in his arms.

My father sighs and lets go of me, to hand me back to my husband. From the expression on his face as he does so, I would guess that that action was one of the hardest things he has ever done. Fritz is not the only man that knows that he has to let me go tonight. "My daughter does not see the good in others very often," he tells Waltz, looking him straight in the eye, "but she is able to see good in you. Whatever you do, do not disappoint her in that."

Waltz nods, his hand coming around my waist as he takes me from my father. "Yes, Your Majesty."

A smile starts to pull on my father's lips. "Waltz, you can call me 'Father' now, too."

Waltz startles, as if just now realizing that the king is his father-in-law. "Of…of course…Father," he says.

My father actually does manage a small smile then, before following Delora and Karma down the stairs with Rod glancing at me before following in their wake.

…

"I…I don't want to disappoint you Lucette, but you know that you remember and feel things that I don't just yet," my husband tells me.

It had been somewhat awkward, entering Waltz's room to find my things in a box on the table, and that his single bed had been replaced with one meant for two. And I realized what Delora had been doing, while we talked to my father. She had extricated my things from her room, and switched the beds. It must be her way of telling us 'congratulations'…or perhaps that she is happy to have her room back to herself.

Waltz and I had decided to simply go to sleep, only talking after he had put up a sound barrier, as it had been a long day for the both of us. He had turned around when I removed my dress to put on a nightgown, which I found to be a huge difference from our previous wedding night. Last time, he had barely shut the door before taking me into his arms to kiss me…and that had soon developed into him helping me with the laces of my wedding dress. He had been wearing an eager smile at the time that I had never seen him use before; a smile that held no trace of sorrow, regret, or hesitation.

I wish I could be seeing that very same smile again…and I am sure that I will. Just not tonight. And I find it a little ironic in light of the fact that everyone in the Marchen, with perhaps the exception of Delora and Parfait, are certain that Waltz and I are 'enjoying ourselves' right now.

"I understand," I tell my husband, crawling under the blankets on the side of the bed opposite his. "It's something that needs to be meaningful to us both. I wouldn't want to rush you."

He smiles at me. "Thank you for understanding, and for being patient…I know that patience has not always been your strong suite," he says, before coming closer to me to gently kiss my forehead. "I know it will come."

I snuggle under the blankets beside him. "In the meanwhile," I decide, "it is enough that I know that you are here with me now."

He sighs. "I wasn't when you woke up, the morning after marrying you."

"No, you weren't," I practically whisper, the horror and grief of that event flashing in my mind. I had been afraid to wake up because of a fear that I had found out to be the truth when I opened my eyes.

Apparently, he hears in my voice what I have not told him with words and he pulls me into his arms. I lean into them immediately, hungry for whatever warmth he will grant me, resting my head on his chest. "I'm sorry," he tells me. "You must have felt like I had abandoned you."

"It wasn't your fault," I tell him. "In fact, I see no plausible way you could have been there when I awoke. You thought that it had only been some strange dream, and were trapped in the body of a child with almost no magic when you woke."

"But you were still in pain. I've only ever wanted the very best for you."

"I know," I tell him, then I smile as I notice something as I snuggle in his arms; he is not stiff like he usually is when I spent the night in here before marrying him. _I suppose he is not worried about losing control, and possibly getting me pregnant as that's a moot point right now…._ "You'll be here tomorrow morning, though?" 

"Yes, I'll be here in the morning little star," he promises me. Sleep comes easily to me in the comfort of that thought, and I am sure I am still smiling when it does. After all, I am in my husband's arms again.

I am where I belong.

…..


	32. The Day After

**Chapter 32. The Day After**

A thought occurs to me when I wake in the middle of the night, and fortunately my husband does not rouse while I 'rearrange' the room a little. When I am finished, I crawl back under the blankets, wondering how he will react in the morning, and if someone will leave us breakfast again to see the results of my 'staging' the room.

It is hours later that I wake again, feeling movement beside me, and I open my eyes to find my husband just starting to stir. I pull up the sheet a little more, so it covers my shoulders, and what I have done will not become immediately obvious. I also do a quick check, and find that our sound barrier is still holding strong. I roll around in bed to find a better view, and grin at him. "Good morning, Waltz."

His eyes pop open immediately as he startles, and he turns to see me there beside him. "Oh yeah…we got married, didn't we?"

"We certainly did," I tell him, still smiling.

He gives me a somewhat bashful smile, sits up in bed, and then pauses. "Lucette…" he trails off, looking around the room, and then down at his chest as he realizes that he is no longer in his nightshirt.

"Yes, Waltz?" I ask innocently. "I left your pajama pants on." I'm actually rather proud of myself, that I was able to get his shirt off without waking him. It did help that he was rolling around in his sleep last night…which is what had woken me in the first place.

"What is this?" he asks, gesturing around the room. The items of clothing we had been wearing yesterday are now scattered across the floor, almost artfully draped in a few places, as if their owners had no consideration of them due to a matter of more pressing importance. "And why is my shirt off?"

"I thought it necessary," I answer him. "This is how we left our room last week, and I thought it would be appropriate to replicate it."

"And why is that?" he asks.

"The last time I was in your room here overnight, someone left us breakfast the next morning. Since I have no idea who it was, I thought I should set the scene in case it was someone other than Delora or Parfait—who probably know what is actually happening," I answer. "That way, if it was someone else, they would see what they were expecting to see."

"That…actually makes sense," he admits as he sits up in bed, and then he looks over at the table. "And someone _did_ leave us breakfast."

I half rise myself, and see that there are indeed trays on the small table of our room.

"Wait…you were spending the night in here before we were married?" he asks, rather surprised.

"The night before I left for the palace," I explain, "I couldn't sleep, so I came to see you. You were reluctant to allow me to stay, but you did. All that really happened was some cuddling. Like I said, when we woke up the next morning, breakfast was here. I never bothered to find out who was responsible, so I put up this display. Think of it like how you carefully set up your magic tricks and puppet shows. I've gotten very good at figuring out what people expect to see, and then showing it to them."

My husband shakes his head. "And here I thought that _I_ was a perfectionist."

"Just don't tell everyone that that is what you discovered about me between now and our wedding," I tell him with a grin. "They'll think you're bragging."

"Why would you think that?" he asks, and then blushes again as he figures it out.

But I tell him anyway. "They'll assume I demand perfection; that either you were a wonderful lover right away, or else that I had you practice until I was satisfied with your performance which could be a complement to your stamina."

He is still pink, going silent for a moment before he decides how to respond. "What was that night like for you, in all seriousness?"

My smile loses its playfulness as my mind takes me back. "I was triumphant in our victory against Alcaster and Myth," I begin. "I thought that I had followed Parfait's advice to bring balance perfectly and that the cycles were finally over, and that I could continue with the rest of my life."

I frown slightly, as I consider how to put the next part into words. "Waltz, you don't remember the other cycles…which I consider a good thing. You always want what is best for me, no matter what happens. But when you fall in love with me, there is no task, risk, or battle too great or too dangerous for you to undertake for me. You do absolutely anything to remain near me, even accept a fate that some would consider worse than death, when my own situation was hopeless and I could give you nothing in return."

"I take it that your mother got loose during that cycle?" he asks me quietly, and I nod.

"She…was not merciful. But I would prefer not to speak of it," I tell him. "The point is that night tragedy had not struck. Instead, I was able to marry you and I could finally give you all of me. I had never felt more in love than on that night, I had never felt happier, as if everything I had suffered had been worth it just to finally be with you."

Waltz is speechless at that, and I know that I have deeply touched him. Before the silence gets long enough to be awkward, I ask, "Or were you asking about your proficiency as a lover? Because I was quite pleased. And consider yourself in possession of a blanket invitation. Whenever you _are_ ready again, so am I."

Waltz is now red again, but he does recover his voice. "Uh…th-thank you," he stammers as he climbs out of bed.

"Do you care to hand me my robe before I get up?" I ask him, still beneath the blanket, and I am certain that I am now pink as well. I guess that I did not use all of my blushes up on my wedding night after all. "Or not, your choice. I'm fairly certain that you remember what I look like without one anyway."

He turns around to look at me. "I would have to be dead to forget that. You…aren't wearing a stitch of clothes, are you?"

"Nope," I tell him. "I'm very dedicated in my performances." After all, the blanket could have slipped down off of my shoulders. It would not do if the party responsible for breakfast saw that I was in a nightgown.

He hands me my robe while wearing a smile I can only call bemused, and I put it on as he warms our breakfast before we sit down to eat. A glance out of the window tells us that it is past midmorning. Beside the trays on the table I see a half-finished puppet, and a melancholy thought occurs to me.

"I'm sorry Waltz," I tell him.

"About what?" he asks.

"Father will announce our marriage today," I tell him. "He believes that we are trying for a baby, guesses that due to some magical spell I'll probably be pregnant within the week, so he doesn't have another choice. He will have to explain who you are, and will probably describe you as the witch responsible for my mother's defeat since it would be impossible to hide that you are a witch indefinitely. He prefers being upfront when possible." It occurs to me to wonder if Father will bother to give any reason at all for the marriage, or simply announce it. He will not tell the masses what I told him, but he might infer that this was repayment for Waltz's actions to end the Great War, or simply that he married me to the first man that made me smile.

"You are a performer, you announce your name at your shows, you showed your young friends that your curse was broken…everyone will now know that you are a witch, and the new prince," I tell my husband. "The entire city is probably abuzz with the news right now. The subject of the Ice Princess marrying a street performer, who was actually a witch in disguise that had helped defeat Hildyr, will be on everyone's lips before sunset. Something like that is simply too sensational not to tell everyone that will stand still for more than five seconds." And come to think of it, it might do my own public image some good. If I married someone that helped defeat my mother either I was not that fond of her, or else I am _very_ forgiving, in which case I am not like her.

His eyes widen. "What…oh." Waltz sighs. "So, no more puppet or magic shows." He knows that continuing his trade after marrying me would be seen as improper. After all, Ophelia gave her bakery away when she married my father.

"I think playing with the children in town would be fine, though," I tell him. "Father lets Rod and Emelaigne wander in the city freely enough…with a guard or two anyway…and you are now technically their equal. In private, you could continue to entertain…just not in public."

He sighs heavily. "I'm going to miss performing," he admits. "At least, I don't think anyone will care that much about me being a witch. They have known me for years, and since I never grew everyone thinks of me as just another curse victim."

"And you should probably stay out of public view, at least until Myth had been handled," I tell him. "He will be doing everything he can to find me…and will almost certainly be trying to kill you."

"Surely you don't doubt my ability to defend myself?" he asks. "Oh…they might follow me to find you, and _then_ try to kill me."

I nod. "You'll have to wear an illusion or glamour when in public, at least for a time." Then I give a small smile. "You should be able to visit with the children, later. Just tell them that you had to give me magic lessons, and that I had to give you protocol lessons."

"Protocol lessons?" he asks.

I nod. "You will need to learn things like how to dance, which fork to use for dessert, and that it is not permissible to turn even disagreeable foreign ministers into frogs for example."

He chuckles. "I already know not to turn even disagreeable people into frogs."

"I know," I tell him, wearing a small smile of my own, remembering another conversation we once had similar to this. Marriage means a lot of changes for us both.

"And you will have to stop practicing with the knights," he notes.

"I'm aware of that," I say, somewhat regretful. It would not be safe for me to do anything in which I could be hit in the abdomen. "I enjoyed that, but both of us will have to make adjustments." I pause for a moment, thinking. "Would it be easier for you if you took care of my morning lessons regularly? You were performing in the mornings, so if I can fill that void with something else you might enjoy…?"

He smiles at me. "I do enjoy teaching you. You are a quick study, and I like the way you smile when you are able to cast something correctly. Though there is that scary grin you sometimes use with offensive spells…."

"That's when I'm imagining that Myth is on the other side of the shield," I admit.

My husband snorts a laugh. "Remind me to never make you angry."

I nod. "Just never try to overthrow my father and threaten everyone I care about, and we'll be fine."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he tells me dryly.

"Of course," I tell him with a smile. "And that's one of the many reasons I married you."

After breakfast, we get ready for the day and I have Waltz magically add length to my dress so it falls to my ankles. Now that I am married, a shorter dress would be considered improper. Later, I sit in front of the mirror as I brush my hair after Waltz finishes shaving. I divide my hair as I normally do, but then my fingers freeze as I start to put in my braids. All of a sudden, my two braids that lead into a pigtail seems…girlish, just like the short-length dresses. For my first wedding, I had worn my hair up with a few ringlets hanging down and in spite of the uncertainty…terror…of that night, I liked the style enough to remember it. But, I count it as too much trouble for everyday wear.

And I realize that in every other cycle I had pretended, at least at first, to be who everyone thought I was. I have largely dispensed with that this time. Why not try something different with my hair as well?

What I end up with is two braids pinned to the top of my head, holding my hair out of my face like thick ribbon hairbands, a couple of inches apart while the rest of my hair hangs lose down my back. As I finish, my husband comes up from behind me. "I thought I might try something a little different. What do you think?" I ask, still looking in the mirror while I try to decide if I like it. It is so different from how I normally wear my hair, that I am not entirely sure if I like it or not.

He smiles from behind me, and wraps a stray curl around a finger. "I think that you look lovely no matter how you do your hair. Keeping some of your hair down gives you a…softer…look."

Softer? Well, perhaps I am softer than I once was. But it is possible to be both less severe and tougher at the same time. I no longer mistake anger or ferocity for strength. I notice that Waltz is still playing with that curl, and decide to leave my hair as is. He seems to like it this way.

After straightening the room and unpacking all of my things, we have no more excuses to remain in our room. A look outside shows it to be midday. We must face the awkwardness of the 'knowing' grins and smirks of our friends and acquaintances as we accept their congratulations. "I guess the plan is to return our trays to the kitchen as red-faced as possible, and then escape outdoors for lessons?" I ask.

"Good plan," my husband agrees. "But you know, Annice will probably have some sort of a celebratory meal or a cake ready by tonight. We'll have to face everyone then."

I sigh. "You're probably right. And now I know why newlyweds typically leave their home to go someplace else for a few weeks."

We both return our trays and hurry out of the kitchen as quickly as possible, but it was not before I noticed that something was not right. Out in the common room, both Fritz and Karma are nursing large mugs of something, and wincing at loud noises. I think that Karma is not wearing his makeup today, which strikes me as odd. Jurien is standing in the corner as she looks over the lunch patrons, but she is tense and glaring at Fritz and Karma. Garlan is nowhere to be seen.

 _I wonder what that could possibly be about._

But Waltz grabs my hand, and we leave before anyone in the common room notices us. He takes me outside to the clearing, and we start working on illusions. I am just starting to get the hang of it, making a beetle look like a butterfly, when I see Parfait and Delora approaching us. They hover before I wave them over, and they cross the sound barrier Waltz has up to come and sit on the grass with us.

"I am trying to decide," Delora starts, "if you two had more fun last night than I strictly expected you to have, or if the Princess simply plans everything quite thoroughly."

"Then it was _you_ that brought breakfast?" I ask, and Delora nods.

"She plans everything," Waltz admits. "And I thought that I was a perfecti…never mind," my husband says, his cheeks turning pink once more.

Delora chuckles. "I just thought you two probably wouldn't want to come down right away this morning. Don't think the display was wasted, though. Annice helped me carry up the trays, but didn't get more than a little peek inside of your room before turning red and handing me the second tray to bring in myself."

"She's such a sweet girl," I admit. "If she wasn't better off eventually training under Chevalier to be a doctor, I'd probably see if I could get her a job as Emelaigne's personal maid. They would likely end up as good friends."

"As opposed to yours?" Delora asks.

"With how she reacts to finding a few pieces of clothes on the floor?" I ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You have a point," Delora says. "You would have entirely too much fun mortifying the poor girl."

 _That wasn't exactly the point I intended, but…_ "You have _no_ idea how much fun I have had over the years, messing with people's heads without them suspecting a thing," I note with a grin.

"That does not surprise me," both my husband and Delora say together. Parfait merely smiles.

"With your insight into events at the Marchen, might you have some idea as to what may have happened with the knights?" Parfait asks.

"We…are not entirely sure what ensued," Delora admits, "but _something_ happened last night. Garlan was mortified this morning and asked for any errand that would get him out of the inn, Jurien is quite clearly furious about something, and both Fritz and Karma are hungover and confused by the behavior of the other two. It would be a good guess that neither of them remember what transpired."

I close my eyes and sigh. "I…can guess what happened. Fritz and Karma obviously got drunk last night. If it was something that embarrassed Garlan and made Jurien angry…one of the drunk men probably blurted out that Garlan was in love with Jurien within her hearing, and she…would not have taken it well. I might try to talk with Jurien about it, or give Garlan a kick in the pants. I usually have to do so before Garlan will tell Jurien that he is in love with her…but I'm not sure how it will go if I try to do so without developing a…rapport with either of them."

"Oh…" Waltz says quietly. "I had always kind of wondered if there was anything there."

"There is," I admit, "but he's so afraid that he will lose her friendship if she refuses him, that it takes a lot of…encouragement…for him to tell her how he feels about her. Either Jurien is simply dense and does not realize how Garlan feels, or else will not admit to having those feelings herself until he finds the courage to confess. She would not be impressed by having someone else tell her how Garlan feels. She'd probably wonder if he was a coward for not telling her himself."

"That…sounds like a perfect mess," Delora decides.

"And at the moment, it is a peripheral issue," I decide. First things first, and I can try to fix that particular problem later. "What we actually need to talk about right now is how to stabilize the Tenebrarum, and deal with Myth. Since I made an agreement with him during the last cycle…that I would marry my mother's apprentice in exchange for my not being coerced into freeing my mother…will he remember that?"

"Possibly," Parfait admits. "Probably. It is an agreement between two witches, and the terms of both parties have not been filled yet. You fulfilled your end by marrying Waltz, but if your mother is still trapped in the Tenebrarum or if she will appear there again if another cycle starts, his end of the bargain will not be completed as he must remember that he can do nothing to force you to free her. It is possible that he figured out the cycling, if he remembers making that agreement."

"I think he might know about the cycling, anyway," I realize. "When we set the time for the wedding, he remarked that I knew that it was to occur when my mother would die within the Tenebrarum if she was not freed…and that was something he had not told me. Either he was forgetful about what he had and had not told me, or he knows about the cycling." And another thought occurs to me, as I remember what he told me when he showed me my mother within the Tenebrarum the night I returned to the palace.

" _She was right about you, that you would eventually embrace the same corruption she did; you are fully prepared to receive it now. But for her gamble to result in this…."_

"He also said that my mother had thought that I would embrace corruption, and implied that she had somehow gambled upon that," I consider. "I had thought at the time that he was speaking of her gamble of thinking that I would willingly release her from the Tenebrarum…but what if there was something additional to that wager?"

The other three exchange worried glances, and I continue. "No mortal magic could have caused the cycles, if mortal magic cannot distort time in any way, but the gods…. What if she made a wager with a god, and in order for her to win, I would need to be corrupted?"

If they looked worried before, this idea has lent them no comfort. "I don't know how it could be anything else, in that case," Parfait says quietly. "But we need to be certain. That she made a 'wager' implies that there were two distinct, and opposite, outcomes. If your corruption was one outcome, we need to find out what the other was as soon as possible."

"And Myth is probably the only witness, short of Mother herself," I muse. "How susceptible would he be to any attempt to force him to talk, if we captured him?"

Waltz grimaces. "He is powerful enough to resist spells for that purpose, and potions for the same thing could in theory be overcome. If we used both at once, we would have about a three in five chance of rendering him mentally incapable of telling us anything, and a two in five chance of being successful."

"A last resort then," I decide. "I'll just have to convince him to tell me."

"That would put you in danger…" Delora starts.

"In more danger than if I do not know what I am dealing with?" I ask.

"No," Parfait decides. "In this instance, not knowing is the more dangerous choice."

"Then we need to buckle down and really get to work," Waltz tells me. "This conversation should not take place before you are capable of binding or cursing him in a way that would neutralize him quickly if he finds out the truth of you. Which means…you will need to be capable of binding _me_. I am a little more powerful than he is, so if you can overcome me you can overcome him."

"Then I'll go and let you three get to work, and get that potion made up just in case," Parfait says, getting up. "You should start immediately. The longer Myth has to think, the more suspicious he will be. Waltz, you need to teach her how to bind Delora before Lucette can start trying to bind you."

And suddenly, the awkwardness of facing friends and acquaintances the day after my wedding evaporates in the face of a more pressing problem. "Fine," I say, and turn to my husband. "Tell me what I need to do."

…

I am completely worn out by the time we stop for a late supper. Several hours in, I am able to bind Delora so she cannot use magic or escape until I loosen her bonds, but Waltz is harder to hold onto and it does not get easier as I tire. He does, however, confess to me that he is using his full strength to try to escape as that is what I must be prepared to deal with. Tonight, after supper, we plan to go over the theory behind different curses…and I confess to Waltz and Delora that I actually remember how I dispelled Rod's curse, but thought it was wiser to deal with Myth before any rampant dispelling could occur. Both accept my logic, and Waltz brings up the point that with the Tenebrarum unstable, getting rid of the Fairytale Curse completely would remove a power source and potentially make it even less stable.

And I have to wonder if removing too many curses at once might do the same thing. And there is the fact that removing any curses right now produces only temporary benefit as they might all be reset again for another cycle if I can't get it stopped this time…time is ever repeating.

After Delora leaves, I turn around to ask my husband a question. "Waltz, how many children do you want?"

"What?" he asks, surprised.

"Remind me that there is a future, if only for a moment," I tell him softly. "How many children do you want? I know that you love them, so I assume you want more than the one that is on the way right now."

"Would six or more seem too many?" he asks me, a little hesitant.

I chuckle at him. "Considering I won't have to cook or clean for them, and there will also be nannies to help, that isn't too many."

His smile broadens, and he gives me a hug. "We'll have our own little horde of very small witches."

And I can't help but grin back at him as I wonder how the palace staff will cope with that…. "I can just see an etiquette tutor telling our children that not playing with their food during formal dinners includes not levitating it, or transforming their vegetables into cake," I tell my husband, and we laugh together at the mental image of this occurring.

When we enter the inn, we find ourselves ushered into the private dining room where Annice has laid out both Waltz's and my favorite dishes, and most of the other boarders are there to celebrate. Only Jurien is missing. But when I thank Annice before sitting down, tears well up in her eyes and she flees the room.

"Just a moment," I say, motioning everyone else to stay where they are and I leave the dining area. I follow Annice down into the kitchen where I find her sitting at a small work table with her face in her hands. "Annice…did I say something wrong?" But I remember her crying when I was nice to her in another cycle, and it occurs to me that this is the first cycle she remembers me, because this is the first time I arrived at the Marchen without a curse. I did offer an apology when I had first seen her here, but I am not sure how much of an impression it made on her because it had been prompted by Delora.

Her hands come down from her face, and she looks at me as if shocked. _Of course…she did not expect me to follow her here._ "I…I…" she stammers, wiping her eyes with her apron. "You…you _thanked_ me, Your Highness."

"You worked hard," I tell her. "You deserve thanks."

She is silent for a minute, staring down into her lap. And I know that she is thinking about how I had had her fired previously.

"Look, Annice," I sigh, "I regret being harsh to you earlier. I don't want this to sound like I am making excuses, but my mother had conditioned me to be severe with the staff, and would fire maids if she thought me friendly with them. I'm fairly certain that I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to undo, or at least mitigate, the damage she did to everyone…including myself. I don't expect this to be easy…but I am going to do it."

The girl nods. "Thank you Princess…. I know it couldn't have been easy for you when you found out what she was. The first thing I was taught when I entered the palace is that you didn't know, and not to mention it anywhere near you."

"That…does not surprise me," I note. Of course the servants had all been warned not to mention that my mother had been the corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer. As far as I can remember, I only heard a few whispers of her being a witch, and even then I had thought they were speaking only in a figurative sense. It seemed reasonable to assume that because she was formal or harsh with the staff, that they would have no affection for her.

"Is it true Princess?" Annice asks me quietly. "I overheard Fritz telling Karma…that the Tenebrarum is unstable, and that if you can't fix it that both you and Lady Parfait would die."

" _What?!_ " we hear from behind us, and both Annice and I jump and turn around to see Jurien sitting on a stool in the kitchen, just inside the pantry, holding a crushed roll in a fist. Apparently, she had been eating the roll before we came in. "What is this about the Princess and Parfait dying?"

"He said," Annice repeats, "that the Tenebrarum was unstable, and might break in about a year if the Princess can't fix it. If this happens, both Crystallum would break, magic would end, and both Bearers would die. He said that the princess decided to marry so she could have a baby right away, in case she couldn't fix it, so the king would still have an heir since his stepchildren don't want the throne. Is that true?"

Jurien's gaze is as hard as Annice's is tearful. "That's why I can't fail to fix it," I tell them. "I have more lives than just mine depending on my success. But yes, if I do fail, both Parfait and I would die." Annice begins to cry again. "But I have no intention of failing. It's just not going to happen, but it is my responsibility to prepare for that eventuality anyway."

"And Waltz is aware of this?" Jurien asks me. "You have been completely forthright with him?"

"Yes," I tell her. "I have held nothing back from him."

"Including your own feelings, whatever they may be, concerning him?" the knight asks me.

I blink at her. "You believe that I am only using him. This is not so. He is fully aware of the feelings I have for him."

"Then what are they…Princess?" she asks me, just barely remembering my title. She is clearly upset about something, and I am not certain that it concerns only me.

"Well, to start out with, there is no one I trust more," I tell her.

"Really?" Jurien asks. "It was really that simple for you?"

 _It was a great deal more complicated than that…._ "He was also my closest friend, the person that could make me smile more than any other…which some people might consider a small miracle in and of itself that he could make me smile at all," I add. "And I know he would risk anything for me…he already has at this point. He betrayed and fought my mother for me, because he knew what would likely happen to me if she was not defeated. Waltz wants me as a woman instead of a means to an end; becoming the king's son-in-law is irrelevant to him. He's such a kind, generous person that loving him is easy."

"And that is enough for you?" the knight asks.

"Well, considering the circumstances, it was more than enough," I tell her, and then I get an idea. "Wait…is this anger really about Garlan?"

Annice is no longer crying, but she looks around uncomfortably as if wondering if she should still be present, and Jurien sighs. "Men are idiots."

"What happened?" I ask. If Jurien does not care that we are talking about this in front of Annice, neither do I.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "I didn't know that you would be interested, Princess."

"In tight quarters like this," I say, "your neighbors become your extended family. When there is pain or discord, it affects everyone…and I have been honest with you."

"Then let's see what you make of this," Jurien starts. "Last night, Garlan and I enter the inn after seeing the signal we can return. Delora meets us at the door, tells us that you and Waltz got married, and that we should watch out for the drunks in the common room before she retires to her own room. When we get inside, Karma and Fritz are making short work of a bottle of hard liquor, and Garlan volunteers to watch them and make sure they get back to their own rooms once they are finished.

"As I walk past them, Fritz, grinning, stops me and asks my opinion on whether or not Garlan should tell me that he loves me before some childhood friend comes along and sweeps me off my feet. Karma morosely points out that Garlan _is_ my childhood friend, at which point Fritz congratulates us on our marriage, and tells Garlan he hopes he didn't get the 'wrong princess!'"

I squeeze my eyes shut, as the scene plays in my mind. "Oh dear," I whisper. That sounds like something Varg would have done.

Jurien snorts. "And now, Garlan is avoiding speaking to me, and avoiding speaking to Fritz and Karma…who apparently have no memory of what happened!" And she is avoiding all of them, snacking in the kitchen instead of eating with the rest of us.

And I know that Karma was probably only trying to distract and numb Fritz on my wedding night. Men drink for much milder reasons than that the woman they admire has just married another man, is upstairs experiencing her wedding night with her new husband, and to top that off she is in mortal danger as well…but accidents do happen more frequently when alcohol is involved. "And I suppose you aren't crazy about receiving the news that Garlan is in love with you from the drunken lips of another man?"

"To say the least!" Jurien says.

"Does the message or it's delivery matter more to you?" I ask her.

Jurien appears confused for a moment. "It's…it's…." She sighs. "I would have been willing to give him serious consideration had Garlan asked me. I'm not sure how much I can respect a man that lacks the courage to tell me himself."

"He might have been planning to do so, trying to figure out how you would like to be confessed to best," I tell her, "and working up the courage to tell you himself. He was probably deathly afraid of losing you as a friend if you refused him, and wanted everything to be perfect."

"Maybe, but I don't like the possibility that he may have decided _not_ to tell me about his feelings because he was not able to risk friendship for the sake of love," Jurien bites. Annice continues to squirm in her chair, as if certain that she should not be here, but not quite knowing how to leave.

"You are vulnerable to no one more than the one you love," I tell her. "I know that I could kill my husband's spirit with mere words, if I chose, and he could do the same to me…or we could give each other strength and life."

Jurien is silent for a moment. "You legitimately have strong feelings for him," she decides. "You did not marry him simply because you merely needed a father for the child your duty demands, and you considered him your most suitable choice when you could have also chosen...well, a princess could have anyone she wants."

"I don't know about _anyone_ ," I tell her, considering that she almost named Fritz there. If not only Karma but Jurien also knows, apparently Fritz is being transparent around his fellows. It is good to know that he is making friends, even if Jurien is furious with him right now. But in the light of his situation, she will not stay angry at him for long for being drunk and saying what he did. Alcohol often encourages imbibers to say and do things they otherwise would not. But Garlan she might not be so quick to forgive, as he lacks Fritz's excuse.

"But sometimes childhood friendships lead to more," I continue, "and in our case this is true. I believe that we would still have married eventually, even if time had not forced the issue. In your own case…just be careful of what you might throw away for the sake of your own pride. And try to decide if Garlan is worth forgiving for not telling you how he feels in a timely fashion. Even men that are otherwise courageous might fail in confessing love…and eventually pay the price by having to watch another man romance their intended."

Jurien shifts uncomfortably on her stool, probably thinking that this is exactly what happened to Fritz, and sighs. In her mind, though, she may think that at least Fritz had the excuse that confessing to a princess would have been improper unless I had given him encouragement of some sort first. Garlan would not have had that excuse, as Jurien is socially his equal. I do not think that she dislikes Waltz in any way, and would not mind that I had chosen to marry him in any other circumstances. But Fritz is a fellow knight, and has apparently accepted what his father is without reservation. That means something to her, and she would like Fritz to find the happiness he can in his situation. If the only factor was that I needed a father for my child she would have preferred that I had chosen Fritz…but now that she knows that I really do have feelings for Waltz, she can excuse me for not having done so.

I would like Fritz to be happy too, but I cannot give him what he wishes of me. I have some hope that he might be happy with Emelaigne someday, but that day is far away.

There is really nothing else to be said, but Jurien accepts my invitation when I ask if she would like to have supper with the rest of us, and she joins Annice and I as we return to the private dining room.

….


	33. To Find the Truth…or a Portion of It

**Chapter 33. To Find the Truth…or a Portion of It**

The next day, Delora and I sit outside the inn, taking a break from our lesson. I have now turned Waltz into a frog several times this morning, and kissed him to bring him out of the curse, preparing myself in case I need to curse Myth…though I intend to use a curse that is decidedly more severe for Myth. I am still trying to learn how to bind Waltz so he cannot use his magic, and have almost gotten the hang of it. But he is still quite hard for me to hold down. After nearly a full morning of that, he put on an illusion so he could go into town to get me a treat, leaving me to converse with Delora.

Our discussion had wandered from things magical to pregnancy and childbirth and, since I know very little about either topic, I find her very informative. And then I realize that I potentially have a rough time ahead of me, but the prize at the end will be more than worth it. I note everything Delora says carefully knowing that I'll have to repeat most of it to my husband so he will know what to expect as well. We have nearly gotten to talking about childbirth itself when I see my stepbrother coming down the path he always uses.

"We may want to continue this a little later," I tell her, and Delora nods and gets up from the bench beside me to move farther down the side of the building. Rod notices this, and approaches me. "Good afternoon, Rod," I tell him.

He looks at me as if he is not sure what to make of me anymore. "You look different with your hair down," he finally says.

I nod. "It was time for something new, but you are not here to inquire after my hairstyle." I tilt my head as I look at my stepbrother as he hesitates. "Why don't you sit down? I am not going to bite you."

He does so after a second, then frowns. "Where is your husband?"

"He said he was going to go get me something," I tell him. "I don't think he'll be much longer, if you wish to see him as well."

Rod nods. "You know, half a dozen old friends and acquaintances stopped me on the way here. They wanted to know what I thought of you and Waltz."

"What did you say?" I ask.

"That I liked him, and thought that he was good for you," Rod tells me.

"That was kind of you," I tell him.

A small frown creases Rod's brow. "That was nothing but the truth. I haven't spent much time in his company, but he always appears to be kind to others. You…haven't been the same, lately."

"I know," I say, half wishing that I could tell him why. "You sound a little confused, but not unhappy about that."

"I…guess that is one way to describe that," Rod admits. "I just rather wish you had found Waltz again a year ago."

He assumes whatever changes in me the initial shock of finding that I was a witch cannot explain, occurred due to my finding Waltz. He wishes that I had been more relaxed, more pleasant, when he and his family had moved into the palace. Emelaigne would not have had such a difficult time if I had been friendly, or at least civil, with her from the start. "I didn't remember him a year ago," I tell Rod. "Like I said, the memories trickle back in dreams. I really have no control over their return."

Rod sighs. _"How have you and Waltz been, Princess? Your father wanted to know."_ I hear from his shoulder.

Scarcely two days since the wedding, and my father is already concerned over me. I look over at the magical stuffed animal that is still on Rod's shoulder, before my gaze returns to my stepbrother. "We have been well…and successful," I tell him. "You can let Father know that we are expecting a boy."

Rod startles.

"I mean," I try to clarify, "Rod should tell Father, not you Sebby. It's not that I have anything against stuffed rabbits, but this sort of news should be carried by family."

" _I understand, Princess,"_ Sebby tells us.

"So soon?" Rod asks, surprised.

"Rod, we're both witches," I tell him. "There are ways to ensure that a child is conceived. And our son is apparently going to be fairly powerful making him easier to sense; Parfait could sense his presence the day after the wedding. She's also the one that said that it was going to be a boy."

"Assuming that you can keep the Tenebrarum together, he will be powerful," Rod adds.

My head jerks up, but Sebby beats my reaction with, _"That was insensitive. She'll be dead if that happens, and you know it! She'd never get to see her baby grow up, and that's assuming she's correct about how long the Crystallum will stay together if she can't fix it. If she's wrong…the baby might not live long enough to be born. Dislike her if you want, but that baby never did anything to you."_

Rod looks as if he has just been slapped, staring between Sebby and myself. "I…I should not have mentioned that, Lucette," he finally tells me.

"It's not like it's anything I haven't been thinking about," I admit slowly. For all I know, if I die as the Tenebrarum crumbles, I will stay dead. "If the only thing I can do is keep the Tenebrarum together long enough for the baby to arrive…I'll still have given him more than I ever had. He will still have a father that loves him and knows how to communicate love well, and I'm sure that Ophelia and Emelaigne will dote on him also."

Rod nods. "Wild horses wouldn't be able to drag them away. They both love children."

"And you?" I ask. After all, it is not impossible that I could fix the Tenebrarum in this cycle, bear my child the next, and then die and stop the cycles that way. Some women do die in childbirth, and as far as I know, if I die I might stay dead.

"I…" my stepbrother trails off. "I've never really thought about how I feel about children. Most of them are messy, and don't make any sense."

"And I suppose you weren't dripping from both ends for a couple of years after you were born?" I ask with a wry smile.

"I see your point," Rod admits. "I…I suppose I might be able to teach him things when he gets a little older."

"Thank you," I tell him. "But let me be clear that I haven't given up. I'm going to get the Tenebrarum fixed, and live a long time. And…Waltz actually wants a lot of children, not just the one."

"Lots?" Rod asks.

"Imagine a horde of very small witches," I tell my brother with a smile.

"And you would be a willing participant in this?" he asks warily, as if wondering what this horde would be capable of. Since both of their parents would be witches, their magic would manifest much earlier than mine did as a halfblood.

"It would make my husband happy, and that's what I want for him," I tell my brother, "so…yes."

"Well," he finally says, "I suppose that maybe there really is someone for everyone, and you managed to find yours."

I smile. "You'll find someone yourself, one day. Love can strike more than once," I tell him, and Rod startles again. "I mean…just look at your mother. I can only suppose that she loved both your father and mine."

"You…are not wrong," Rod admits. "It was only after she married the king that Mother told us what had happened. I didn't even know that she knew your father, before he walked into our house one day declaring that he had never stopped loving her."

"What _did_ happen there, if I may ask?" I say, curious. This is a story I have never heard before.

"She said that when your father was still the crown prince, before the Great War during the Witch Hunt, they had met during a ball to find your father a wife," Rod begins. "She was his favorite there, and they began to court. They were in love when Hildyr came before the current king, and demanded justice for all of the murdered witches…or she would exact revenge herself. He refused, and she killed him.

"This is when your mother demanded that your father marry her and make her his queen, or she would murder my mother as well. For better or worse he agreed on the condition that he be allowed to tell my mother goodbye."

I close my eyes for a moment, imagining that some dangerous psychopath has killed my father, and Waltz will die if I do not marry the psychopath instead of my beloved. Would I have made the same choice my father had, even knowing what I would be dooming my kingdom to? Of course, this scenario is made impossible by the fact that both Waltz and I are very powerful witches…but what would have happened had we been human?

I can find that I have no answer, in spite of what I told my father before I left the palace. And then I realize just how close I came to marrying Myth. Had my father's solution been to try to kill Hildyr after marrying her as well? If it had been…things had not gone according to plan. And then I remember that I had made exactly the same choice my father had, when I had chosen to give in to my mother to save Waltz. As a result, she had ruled Angielle without opposition, I had become a husk of my former self, and Waltz had lived but was trapped in servitude to her once more as he found himself unable to leave me while I still drew breath. I still have nightmares about that cycle, sometimes.

"Mother says that the king told her to find a husband immediately, the last time he saw her," Rod continues. "He thought it would be safest…that Hildyr might be possessive even though there were no feelings involved in their marriage. Then, your father married your mother, and my mother married my father. Father had been a close childhood friend of hers, and was trying to find a way to confess his love to her but did not get it out before she went to the ball. He did not do so until your father's marriage to Hildyr was announced. He knew that a prince could have given her so much more than he ever could."

"And now I know where you got your personality from," I muse. "I assume you never told that girl how you felt about her because she appeared happy with someone else? Or did you try to tell her and get rebuffed?"

He doesn't really answer that question. "She's practically engaged now," he says instead. He is quiet for a minute before asking, "Lucette, have you ever wished you could go back in time and change something?"

Even though his question is deathly serious, it is all I can do to hold back gales of laughter. Instead, I bite my lips, clench my eyes closed, and nod. My problem is that I can't seem to _stop_ going back in time. Only the thought that Rod wants to be able to change the events of the night when he rescued Viorica from drowning, that he wishes he would have stayed with her instead of panicking and running off to find help, sobers me and I am able to return my expression to normal. If he had stayed, she would have realized that he had risked his life to save hers; she might have realized just how much she meant to him. "Yes," I finally answer him, "but you can only move forward…or else wallow in despair. No magic mortals have access to can alter time. We have to adjust to what is, while trying to work towards what we hope for."

It is a lesson that I have come by honestly. Even when I go back, I still go forward. There is nothing else I can do.

"You make it sound simple," Rod tells me.

"Adjustment is not exactly…simple," I admit. "Yesterday during dinner, Delora asked Waltz if 'His Highness' would like some cake, and he turned around to see if you were standing behind him." I had thanked Delora later for waiting until I was back in the room before she had done that, and I couldn't help but grin as he startled and turned around in his chair. She had guessed that I would have wanted to see his reaction myself.

That image rates a small smile from my stepbrother. "I can sympathize there. And Emelaigne _still_ insists to old friends that she is the same as she has always been."

"I think that Waltz and Emelaigne would get along very well," I decide. "Maybe when things are more settled I could bring him over for visits."

"You'd better," Rod tells me. "My mother and Emelaigne are dying to meet him. They have been grilling both your father and myself on anything we know about him."

I should really do something about Myth before that can happen. Otherwise…that could lead to a very dangerous situation. "I'll let you know when. Just…tell them not to expect us in the immediate future."

It is not long before Waltz returns with a candied apple for me, and after I enjoy it, we return to our lessons. When I am finally able to hold my husband in place, we decide to set out to question Myth the next day.

…

We leave in the evening, late enough that Myth will not be caught up in other duties, but early enough that he will still be awake. Waltz makes the portal into the secret passages of the palace, near where the Tenebrarum is located, as Myth will be able to sense the witch magic but not the perpetrator, and we all hurry into the room with the Tenebrarum. And I find myself stunned at the sight.

Mother is not there.

It remains fractured, as if broken ice, but it holds together without casing my mother inside of it. _What happened? She has to be either loose or dead._ And I remember the image of blood just before the power I was controlling increased twofold. And now I am finally certain that she is dead.

"Hurry," I hear Delora hiss from behind me, and Parfait starts and goes to stand by the far wall with the two witches. Then, Parfait makes a spell so quite I can almost not see it as she casts it, and once she has, I sense and see no one else in the room beside myself…and my son, of course.

And then I wait, staring at the Crystallum that fills my vision, as I prepare myself for my role. It is only minutes before I hear footfalls coming down the passageway.

"I can't believe you," I hear from behind me.

"I can't believe that you are actually surprised," I say as I turn from facing the cracked Tenebrarum, and greet my new visitor. I take up my indifferent, pragmatic, but angry mindset…the person I pretended to be in the palace during the last cycle.

Myth is before me, walking through the doorway, his face a map of sheer disappointment. "We had a deal."

"I'm aware that I made a deal," I tell him, coolly. "If I remember correctly, my exact words were, 'in exchange for my not being coerced in any way to release my mother, I agree to marry her apprentice, assuming he still lives, within the hour I turn eighteen.' And you died again… _failed_ once more. I had no choice but to marry the victor, and I made sure you were aware that I would."

His eyes narrow at me. "And now you carry the child of your mother's betrayer. I can feel him here, and considering what happened, nothing else makes sense. I thought that the answer might be that you had become pregnant when your father announced your marriage."

"I know that it allows me to continue to use magic," I answer him. "Though…I did not anticipate that it would cause damage to the Tenebrarum were I to be pregnant when time reset. This circumstance was not exactly covered in any of my tutoring sessions. Mother never told me that she was a witch, much less explained to me anything about how the Tenebrarum worked."

He is silent for a moment. "Do I die…fail…so often that you came to expect that from me?" Myth asks quietly. And I know for certain that he knows of my cycling, but does not remember the cycles as I do.

I shrug. "Waltz kills you sometimes, sometimes someone simply sticks a sword in you. I've seen _Delora_ outsmart you, and capture you. Your overconfidence is your weakness, and she exploits it well. A few times you failed her so badly, Mother killed you herself."

"You li…cannot be serious," Myth says, tensing. Apparently, he only remembers things from the last cycle.

"Believe it or not as you will," I tell him, as if it is irrelevant to me. "Denying the truth does not change it."

He is silent a few moments. "Why make a deal with me if you expected me to die again?"

"There was always the chance that you would surprise me by winning this time," I tell him. "And…I had tried everything else I could think of to stop the cycling. Marriage was something I had not tried yet. If my husband remembered the contract, then I would at least have an ally at the start of the next cycle, and if not…nothing would change."

"I admit," he says slowly, "that my original intention was to marry you, convince you to put yourself under my protection so you would not be cursed in the first place at the start of the next cycle if you did not experience full corruption before time reset, and then destroy the suicidal Lucis Bearer so she would be replaced with someone more pragmatic and you would be unfettered to release your mother. I thought that I could convince you, eventually, that it would be to your benefit to release her. But I died, so you had to give yourself to the traitor instead." He is silent for a long moment. "I failed both of you; your mother is dead, and you are furious with me."

"I believe that I have every reason to be furious with you," I tell him, having gone from cool to glacial. After all, the Ice Princess has cold furies more often than hot tempers…though I do possess those as well.

"And as a result," he says quietly, "the Tenebrarum became unstable in the aftermath."

"Explain," I tell him. _This is so close…I need to find out what is going on…and he knows._

"The day you disappeared from the palace," he starts slowly, "that morning well before dawn…I felt something in magic crack. I got out of my bed, and went down to check on the Tenebrarum. When I got here, it was so riddled with cracks it looked more like snow or ice than glass, and your mother was still encased in it…still sleeping.

"I could only look at it in horror at first. The last thing I remembered before waking was pain in my neck as the traitor killed me, and I had no idea what might have happened at the end of the last cycle to have caused the Tenebrarum to fracture like it had. After dawn, near breakfast time, small tendrils of magic appeared around the Tenebrarum, and a few tiny cracks started to heal. But only the Bearer has the capability to repair the Tenebrarum, and I came to realize that it had accepted you, in spite of your youth.

"I went upstairs to find you after I had realized this, I needed to explain the danger you and your mother were in should it continue to shatter as I had not figured out yet what had damaged it, but by that time you were gone. Your father announced to everyone that evening that you had started to use your magic, and that you had been sent to the fairies and their witch allies for your tutoring. You had also healed your stepbrother of his curse…" he trails off, looking at me as if wanting an explanation.

I nod. "Getting rid of that curse was actually an accident. And I knew that I would still be bound to my word, still married so long as Waltz remained alive. And I wanted to seek him out, if only to see if he remembered that marriage…contract. He did."

Myth nods. "Our contracts bind us more tightly than any written word the humans can manufacture…especially our contracts to each other…and even in the midst of high level spells we are still bound. You…must not be particularly happy about that."

"I don't have to be happy about something in order to use it," I bite. "My heir allowed me to retain my magic, but now must be explained as hiding a pregnancy will only work for so long. I might as well use the genuine father to explain it, especially since a simple spell can easily discern parentage. But now I have to tolerate his rather unrealistic ideals until I can find a way to corrupt him."

"Try despair," Myth reluctantly, regretfully offers. "I know that with my failure…you will want me to pay for it by losing you to him permanently, and he is unfit for you in his current state. Your mother had been trying to corrupt him for years, but was having a difficult time of it. He is not wrathful, he is not selfish, so hate and greed had little effect on him. Your mother had been trying to make him despair when she removed your memories of him—she had allowed him to grow attached to you so she could use you against him—but instead of giving up, he betrayed her.

"We both know that you are the only one capable of corrupting him," Myth continues. "Do whatever you must to make him fall madly in love with you, and _then_ embrace corruption yourself. It will not be long before he follows after you. He will do whatever he must to remain near you."

"I will keep that suggestion in mind," I say, suppressing a shiver. Somehow, I know that he is right. "More importantly," I say, wanting to get back to the topic at hand, "you were explaining the instability you were witnessing in the Tenebrarum. It does not seem as…damaged…as you describe, and Mother is no longer encased by it."

His mouth tightens. "That night, when you made the storm…the shards rearranged themselves, many of the divisions healing, and you partially stabilized the Tenebrarum. However, one of these shards cut the side of your mother's neck, and I could only watch in horror as she bled out and died."

"Blood on white," I whisper, quietly. _The second blood on white from the fortune telling witch's prophecy. First the blood I wore on my wedding dress, the second explained here…there is one more left…and it is my own blood next time._ And I also realize that the brief vision of blood on ice that occurred during the storm…that had been exactly when my mother had died.

Myth nods. "That…is exactly what it looked like," he admits. "Naturally she turned to dust when she died, and the Tenebrarum expelled it. I…gathered her remains up, and put them over there," he says, gesturing to the shrine in the corner with the decorative box and a picture of my mother over it. I'm not sure why I had not noticed it upon my entry to the room…except that the Tenebrarum itself was occupying my attention.

I can only stare at the shrine blankly, unsure what either I or the person I am pretending to be should feel at this revelation. _Did I kill my own mother…on accident?_ And I know that I did, and cannot particularly say that I am sorry about it. I know that nothing else can be done with her. And yet…. At least the death I had given her had been painless.

"For the cycle to have started again, you must not be fully corrupted yet," Myth tells me.

"Why would you say that?" I ask him.

"It would have stopped if you were," Myth tells me. "I could tell you had genuine hate, anger during the last cycle…I remember everything between you agreeing to wed your mother's apprentice and my rather sudden death. I had written out my logic concerning my decisions during this time period so I would remember them as well…but apparently you did not take enough actions while in that state once your magic awoke to grant you full corruption." He pauses for a moment. "By the way, what _did_ you do after that traitor killed me?"

I do not tell him that Fritz killed him, as that would prove me a liar because he thought that Waltz had killed Varg. "Pretended that you were forcing me to marry you," I answer, "asked Waltz to marry me instead. We rescued that child from Alcaster, and brought him before the king for judgement. The fairy and her allies showed up after the traitor did, and they kept the knights from fighting each other. I made everyone believe that that is what I had intended to do the entire time, and had just gone on ahead to 'encourage' them to come after me. I even executed Alcaster myself with a sword."

Myth actually laughs. "Perhaps if you had used magic to kill him instead…. You _are_ politically savvy, but unfortunately, none of that would have 'sealed' your corruption. If you ever want the cycles to stop, you need to embrace it. It is not enough to merely feel anger, hatred, fear, despair…you must take actions arising from such emotions to truly unlock your power and free yourself."

"What?" I ask, as if shocked.

He grins at me. "When your mother tried to enter the Tenebrarum, Chaos himself showed up in a cloud, and asked why she should be allowed succor within one of his Tenebrarum when her corruption had damaged balance so severely. She countered that whatever she had done, it was _his_ fault since witches had not been allowed to defend themselves, and they had died making her feel the pain that had driven her to corruption!"

 _Whatever else Mother lacked…courage was not something she had in small measure, to say such a thing to a god._ "And…did Chaos admit fault?" I ask.

"Not…exactly," Myth explains. "She wagered her life that anyone else, if exposed to the same pain she was, would become equally as corrupted. Chaos asked who she would like to be compared to, and she chose _you_. But…the window in which you could release her from her sanctuary so she would not die, and could experience corruption yourself was very small especially if you needed to experience the same amount of pain that your mother did. So, Chaos agreed that time could recycle for you until you had suffered as much as your mother had, or she had won her bet. There was also mention of some task your mother considered impossible if you remained uncorrupted, but…I was losing blood at the time and I don't remember what it was…not that it matters."

"Mother," I whisper. "She… _she caused this?!_ " I go from a whisper to shouting. Everything that I have gone through, everything that I have suffered, flashes before my eyes. "IF SHE RESETS, I'LL KILL HER!" And I have never been angrier in my life, and unbidden power crackles around me, and I do not try to control it. Instead of sparks emerging from my fingertips, there is a white web of buzzing, crackling light that surrounds me before it dispels.

Myth smiles weakly at me. "That…might corrupt you, ironically fulfilling your mother's bargain and last wish…though I am sure she never intended it to happen _that_ way. If you desire, you can still fix the Tenebrarum and keep your power, but fall short of corruption, so time resets and _then_ free your mother. She could help you. You…must have had a lot of light from your father's blood to extinguish; you make it sound as if you have been cycling for a long time. But that may stop soon, perhaps even this cycle."

I eye him warily. "What makes you so sure? Is there a gage somewhere, measuring how much pain I have experienced, compared to my mother, or how close I am to corruption?"

"Chaos had mentioned providing one, as well as a copy of the agreement, to you but I know nothing about its location or status. However…do you intend to repair the Tenebrarum?" he asks me, quite nearly smug. "It almost broke, keeping you static while time reset. If you want to retain your power, you must retain your…pregnancy, so the Tenebrarum will have to be in perfect or near perfect condition to be able to save it again. Have you not realized, Princess?" he asks, now quite self-satisfied. "You had a tantrum the night you left the palace, and fed the Tenebrarum your anger…which allowed it to somewhat stabilize itself and healed some of the cracks. Every time you are sad, angry, or fearful…it feeds and heals."

I feel numb. I had not fed it anger, but grief…but either apparently has the same effect. Myth just assumes that I was angry over circumstances he believed I was being forced into, instead of grieving what I had suffered in the cycles…and that I had felt broken without my husband beside me.

But he continues. "The Tenebrarum encourages you to feed it, heal it, by granting you extra power to use…however you like. It needs you as you need it."

Which explains the energy that comes whenever I am experiencing negative emotions, but not actively using any spell. "So…to get the cycling to stop," I clarify, "I must embrace my mother's corruption after experiencing any level of the pain she suffered, or else experience it all without becoming corrupt and complete some specific task and thus making her loose her wager so her life will be permanently forfeit?"

"That sounds correct…" Myth admits. "Wait…what?" he asks, realization lighting in his eyes.

And I immediately open up to my magic, and will him to freeze solid as a stone statue as I also restrain his magic. His body and clothing turn white, becoming limestone the same shade as more common statues that decorate the palace.

I stand there a moment, gasping in relief. I have the information I need…even if it turned out to be both incomplete and worse than I had hoped for…and I managed to neutralize my enemy before he found out that that was what he was to me.

" _Princess…what did you…why…?"_ I hear a small voice coming from the stone. _"You_ traitor _!"_

If his face was not frozen in a permanent stone, surprised expression, I am sure that it would be contorted in rage.

…..


	34. Ramifications

**Chapter 34. Ramifications**

I look at the statue that was once one of my greatest enemies, as he continues to ramble at me. "The rest of you can come out now," I say, and Parfait, Delora, and my husband become visible from their places, up against the far wall. All three faces are grim, none of them really sure what to say to me. Waltz does the best, putting his arms around me from behind me and kissing the top of my head.

Delora goes over to inspect the new statue. "Is…is that safe?" she asks.

I sigh as Myth continues to prattle in a somewhat muted voice. "He cannot use magic like that, or move. But he can think and speak…so…it is safe as long as there is no one here to listen to him. Only true repentance will break that curse, and I doubt that will happen anytime soon." I am silent for a few moments, and Parfait opens a portal to the private dining area of the Marchen. We all walk through, Waltz puts up a sound barrier, and I continue. "At least…at least we know what happened, now."

"Assuming he was not lying," Delora sighs.

"I…do not think that he was," I say. "He said nothing that does not fit what we already know. That Chaos is responsible fits, given that no mortal magic can cause time fluctuations, and that he is responsible for making the Tenebrarum in the first place. Somehow, I doubt Order would have done this. I also know that it is true that I receive additional power when I experience negative emotions. And…sometimes I see the Tenebrarum in my mind. I know that it was in much worse shape before the storm than after. It fits that it uses my own negative emotions to heal itself, and that it gives me something in return."

"But your mother," Parfait whispers. "That she laid _that_ on your back."

"She's done it before," I tell her, "trying to justify herself by making someone innocent suffer. That is why she killed…."

"Loreah," Delora whispers.

I nod. "I heard her say once that she had wanted you to feel the pain that she felt, and that is why she killed your child," I tell Delora. "I do not doubt that she was genuinely in pain as she felt the deaths of the other witches, but she used that pain to justify her response to it…the creation of the Fairytale Curses and the loss of balance between the Lucis and the Tenebrarum. When you objected to her response, she tried to justify herself to you and everyone else that was there by showing you what she had felt…to make you fall given the same stimulus she suffered. But you were stronger than she was, and did not fall to corruption."

Delora's eyes appear haunted, and Parfait looks between the two of us, as if still not wanting to believe what Myth told us. "But her _own_ daughter…" Parfait starts, but then trails off unable to find the words.

And I realize that Parfait is still holding onto, still misses, her old friend. But the woman she knew is dead, and has been for years. The fairy has no memory of the things I have seen my mother do, even though she has knowledge of some of it through me. "She probably thought that, considering the previous work she had done, I would be corrupted easily," I say. "She probably thought that I would not have to cycle more than once or twice to be corrupted…and she may have been right…but then you interfered.

"You had Delora curse me, removed me from the palace, reminded me what goodness was, and staved off the darkness," I tell her.

"And I never knew how much pain that caused you," Parfait whispers. "To endure your trials again and again until you accumulate the pain your mother suffered…the pain that drove _her_ insane."

"You would still have done it," I tell her, "had you known. You would have just suffered more yourself, agonizing over the necessity of it and praying that I would prove more resilient than my mother. You did not have another choice; you had a risk of another Great War versus the certainty of another Great War."

She smiles weakly. "Given that even destroying the Lucis did not work, I guess that I did not have another choice."

I close my eyes for a moment. "Given that we do not know the whereabouts of the gauge to determine how close I am getting to experiencing the level of pain that drove my mother insane, or the original contract that tells me what 'impossible' task I have to accomplish, I guess my only other option is to try to renegotiate that contract with a god? How would that even work?" And what could I possibly say? I can persuade other mortals well enough, but how does one appeal to a god? Even attempting to manipulate Chaos is out of the question.

Waltz's arms tighten around me, and Delora and Parfait look at each other. "You cannot simply call a god…" Delora starts. "They appear before you, as they will, or else you travel to _their_ throne and ask for audience."

Parfait nods. "Even if you do…audience may be denied, and usually is. However, if enough Bearers arrive at the gates, they can open them themselves for meetings of import; it is the only certain way in. The gods permit this no more than once in fifty years, and it has been nearly a century since the last time this method was used.

"You might be able to make an appeal based on the fact that you never agreed to a contract that involved you. Your mother was able to make a contract involving you as your guardian, but now that you have reached your majority you might be able to refuse your involvement in it. I do not know if this will cause the cycles to stop completely…or if they will start for someone else," Parfait finishes.

"And the logistics of this?" I ask. _If the cycles will merely start for someone else…perhaps I can ask for my son's safety to be guaranteed while I finish the original contract. I could also ask what else it is that I am supposed to do. How close am I to the finish line…?_

"Plausible," Parfait admits, "but not accomplishable in this cycle. There will need to be at least six of us, and the Bearers nearest to us are the pairs in Brugantia and Cedel. No one else is close enough to us to get our messages in time. To track down and find them, it may take between two and four months, and you have approximately five or five and a half left in this cycle if they remain approximately the same length. The cycles must be time limited to something other than merely your mother's survival, or the lack thereof…or this one would have ended with her death."

Personally, I believe it quite likely that they are related to the threats posed by my three enemies, and their fruition or defeat. "Would the other Bearers remember the messages if they agreed to be bound to me by contract?" I ask.

Parfait nods. "I believe so. Myth appeared to remember your agreement with him, even though it was not something as binding as a marriage contract."

"And how long until we reach the gates?" I ask.

"If all goes well, and we leave within the week the next cycle starts?" Parfait says. "About halfway through a normal cycle…perhaps the same time your child is due. The other Bearers might get there first. We will have the longest journey."

I close my eyes. Scaling mountains while about to give birth does _not_ sound pleasant…but if I waited until afterwards, there might not be enough time to get there before the next cycle starts. I'll simply have to get rid of Alcaster and Myth before I leave. If Mother is left trapped in the Tenebrarum, the next cycle should not start as her threat is still viable. "Then, so be it," I say. "It is good that you have already called those we will need to locate the other Bearers. We can fully explain the situation to those that agree to go." And I know that I would have to tie Fritz up to keep him from going. This is something important he can do for me, something that could help save me, and he is going stir-crazy here. "My only request is that Waltz remain. I…I will need him here with me, as I attempt to repair the Tenebrarum." His arms tighten around me. He knows that to repair it, I will have to spend weeks or months dwelling on every painful or injurious thing that has ever happened to me to feed my Crystallum.

And I have an arsenal of that at my fingertips. I had never thought, as I held dying loved ones in my arms, that I would ever find those experiences _useful_ for something.

"Of course," Parfait says. "You will have your own battle to face, here, in the meantime and you will need him. You will have to stave off corruption while you…work. There is no doubt in my mind that it will attempt to present itself to you under those circumstances. Still, you should keep your eyes out for anything…unusual that might actually be your copy of the contract. Chaos is known for subtleties as much as for brazenness. It might be an object instead of a flat document, but it will certainly have an aura of magic."

I nod, quite nearly wishing that 'work' encompassed my sweeping with Mr. Broom instead of my current tasks, and the other two women leave the room, solemn. Things were so much more simple when I was merely sweeping floors, and I realize that I was living in blissful ignorance, then. But at least now, I know what happened.

I relax into my husband's arms, dreading that I will have to leave them and get on with my tasks. "I'm afraid that I've surprised you again," I tell him. "This time, I need to fulfill that agreement after I figure out what it all entails…or else I must renegotiate a contract with a god, if such a thing can even be done."

I feel my husband's chest shake as he laughs softly. "The word 'impossible' does not bother me. I would fight for you, no matter how hard the battle is, Lucette."

"And you have," I say, and turn around to cry into his shirt, surprising him. I wonder at this sudden outburst for a moment myself, and then remember that Delora warned me that I could experience mood swings. Unbidden energy swells, and I funnel it into a harmless shield as memories pass before my eyes. Waltz, gently leading me, Waltz, getting hurt trying to protect me while in his child form, Waltz, giving me gifts…kissing me in the midst of his soft, magical lights. I am only a shell, my powers removed by my mother in order to save my love…and he serves her in hopes that I will someday emerge again. I run my fingers through his hair as I lift his face to see his eyes, as I ask him to prepare me to replicate the woman that killed his family in order to seduce his greatest rival.

He wraps his arms around me in the present, my tears and magic growing stronger, probably not knowing what else he could possibly do…mercifully not knowing what I remember and he does not. But he knows now, as I do, that with every tear I shed…the Tenebrarum grows stronger and more likely to be able to protect our son once more.

And I am certain that he hates that this is necessary. Next to killing me or making me an empty shell, forcing him to watch me in pain while I strive to avoid madness and corruption is the worst thing my mother could have done to him….

But I know that I will not be able to make it without him.

I start as I feel magic weaving a hole in the sound barrier, and hear a knock on the door. Delora sticks her head in after a moment. "Lucette?" she says. "You have company."

"Who...?" I ask, retrieving my handkerchief to dry my eyes.

"Your sister apparently convinced your brother to sneak her out of the palace," she answers me.

I sigh. They really should not have done that. It is getting late, and the streets are not always safe at night. "Well, at least they can carry my explanation of why Father needs a new political advisor. I should probably tell him that I disposed of the old one."

"May I send them in?" Delora asks.

"Alright," I tell her. "But please bring me some stationary. I need to write Father a letter."

She nods, and almost at once as Delora leaves the doorway, Emelaigne enters practically dragging Rod behind her. Once she lays eyes on me she startles, and freezes.

"Lucette…you've been crying," she says softly.

"Apparently my mood swings have just started," I explain. "There really isn't anything to be done about them, except suffer through them."

She nods slowly as if only partially accepting my explanation, and I continue. "This is my husband Waltz," I tell her. "Waltz, my sister Emelaigne."

"I am very pleased to meet you," Waltz tells my sister with a smile that she returns.

"And I you," she tells him excitedly. She smiles at me as well, and I wonder if it is because I introduced her as my 'sister' instead of as my 'stepsister.' As far as I am concerned, she deserves the shorter of the two designations. "Mother wants to meet you as well, and…."

"And what are you two doing here at this hour?" I ask, and Emelaigne looks at the floor and Rod grimaces. "Rod, I know that you have permission to do as you please, but I was unaware that this extended to Emelaigne."

"Please don't blame Rod," Emelaigne asks me. "I pestered him until he agreed to take me here. I know that I shouldn't have, but…."

"Should something have happened," I tell her, "your brother would not have been capable of protecting you." Rod narrows his eyes at me. "Now, I am sure he would have tried, but he cannot use any weapon well and has no magic. You could have run into thieves, or worse. If you had wanted to come, you should have asked and then waited for an escort. I would have made sure that you were provided with one."

Emelaigne is now staring at the floor, and I think there might be tears in her eyes.

I sigh, and walk up to her and raise her face with a hand. "I wanted to see you too, but I do not want you hurt…especially when it could have been avoided."

"I…understand," she tells me. "And I will be more careful."

I nod. "Good. I would not wish you to learn this lesson the hard way. What if you got hurt yourself, or if someone else got hurt while rescuing you?"

Emelaigne does not meet my eyes. She does not guess that this is a lesson that I have learned the hard way, and that it is why I picked up a sword to begin with. And I can only breathe thanks under my breath that they were not in the passages when we were dealing with Myth, as it is a long enough of a walk that they would have been more than halfway to the Marchen when I confronted him. They might have put themselves in danger, and ruined my only chance of finding out the truth in time to save my son.

"You know," Rod interjects, "if I did not know better, I would say that _you_ were the older sister, Lucette."

"I feel as if I am, tonight," I admit, and then gesture toward the table and chairs. "Would the rest of you care to sit? Because I know that I do."

Instead of sitting directly at the table, we pull chairs into the corner of the room at my sister's behest. I suspect that Emelaigne does not want the artificial barrier of the table to deal with, as it implies the formality of the meals we once shared.

"I wanted to meet Waltz, and see how you were, Lucette," Emelaigne tells us.

Waltz smiles at my sister. "You've actually seen me perform, a few times. I was still cursed then, so I would have looked about twelve years old."

"Rod mentioned that you were cursed, once," Emelaigne admits. "Father said that it happened when you betrayed Hildyr, and helped end the war. That the war might still be going, had you not done so. Is this true?"

My husband's cheeks pink a little bit. "Yes. I didn't do it by myself, though. I knew that I was not strong enough to defeat Hildyr by myself…and found the fairies that helped me."

"Why did you do it?" she asks.

"I did it for your sister," Waltz simply tells her.

Emelaigne sighs dreamily, and Rod looks at me warily as if expecting that I will jump into my husband's lap again. I merely raise an eyebrow at my brother, as the only thing that happens is that my husband's hand finds mine. Rod looks somewhat…relieved.

"And how are you, Lucette?" she asks next.

"A bit tired," I admit. "I think I just had my first mood swing but I am not experiencing nausea yet…it's still a little too early. Still, my husband's son is starting to let me know that he's here."

Waltz raises an eyebrow at me. "So, when he is making you uncomfortable, he is _my_ son instead of yours?"

"Exactly," I tell him with a smile. "When he is being good, I will be perfectly happy to claim him."

"That's…not logical, Lucette," Rod tells me, and his sister laughs.

"Rod, don't you remember?" Emelaigne asks. "Mother would sometimes say exactly the same thing to Father about you when you were misbehaving when you were little." And then her smile drops, and she starts looking at the floor again.

"It's alright that you still miss him," Waltz tells her. "I still miss my parents, too. I wish they could have been at my wedding, or even just met Lucette, but it's been more than ten years since they died."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," Emelaigne says. "You must have been young when that happened…. Father died during the war. What happened to your parents, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Hildyr killed them when they refused to give me to her for an apprentice," Waltz simply says, and Emelaigne's rosy cheeks drain of their color.

At that moment, there is a knock at the door, and Delora appears with a lap desk that she hands to me. "Everything you need should be in here," she says, and I thank her before she exits the room.

"Excuse me for a moment," I say, as I move to the table to write. "You will have to take a letter to Father from me, when you leave."

"About what?" Rod asks.

"Would you explain while I see to this?" I ask my husband, as I take out a piece of parchment and begin to write.

 _Dear Father,_

 _I feel I must explain why Sir Mythros will be henceforth absent from your court._

 _I came to discover that he was a witch in disguise, once called Myth, apprentice to Hildyr. Mother corrupted him during his servitude to her, and he is guilty of many crimes committed during the Great War. I am afraid that there is no mistake in his identity as Waltz, Parfait, and Delora all recognized him._

 _Mother left him with contingency plans to attempt to corrupt me, and it was his effort to do so that revealed his true purpose and character to me. He is currently serving a sentence I see fit, and I would appreciate your leeway to deal with all such witches myself when it is reasonably possible for me to do so._

 _Under the circumstances, I would strongly recommend that you replace his position in your court with someone that would serve you better. I would also recommend that you reassess any advice that he has given you. I will leave the decision to you, as to if you wish to publicize the truth or simply say that 'Sir Mythros' left his position for personal reasons. Technically, imprisonment could be considered a 'personal reason.'_

 _I would also note that he may have allies still within the palace, so please take care when choosing his replacement. If possible, find someone with no obvious connections to anyone else in your court._

 _-Lucette_

I sigh as the ink dries, hoping that Father will not merely put someone else in the position that Alcaster can plot with. On the other hand, I doubt that he could find anyone _more_ dangerous than Myth.

I turn to the ongoing conversation, and it appears that Emelaigne is having trouble believing what 'Mythros' was.

"But…but how could he be an evil witch?" she asks. "He's been Father's advisor for years!"

"A snake may hide in the grass for long periods of time," I tell her with some bitterness audible in my voice, "and still be nothing but a snake. Time alone will not change a snake into anything else."

"You seem to have no trouble believing the worst of Mythros," Rod notes."Or, at least, you do not seem as surprised as Emelaigne."

"I take it that you never saw him talking to Mother's portrait in the hall?" I ask my siblings. "Quite…fondly…talking to that portrait? You never overheard him constantly comparing myself with my mother?"

"No, I didn't," Emelaigne says softly.

I sigh. "I had always thought him a little cracked for talking to a picture like that, but when I found out what my mother was...I could find no other logical explanation for his behavior than that he admired her. And now I know why."

They are both silent, and I take the opportunity to check that the ink is dry. When I find that it is, I seal my letter with wax and hand it to Rod. "Please see that Father gets this tonight."

Rod nods, and places the letter carefully in his pocket. "If I may ask…what _did_ you do with him?"

"Let's just call it a prison sentence," I answer, and my husband shifts in his chair beside me. "Do you think that I ought to have done the merciful thing and killed him instead?" I ask, turning to him.

My sister pales, as if wondering what I could have done that might be worse than killing someone.

"I don't know, Lucette," Waltz says, frowning. "In all practicality it was fitting considering his crimes, and you may need him alive if there is additional information you might want to obtain. Technically, true repentance could get him out of his…condition…but it is much more likely that he will go completely insane instead in that sort of solitary confinement. When that happens, it would be merciful to kill him."

I nod, wondering how I would be able to tell the difference between complete insanity and his usual behavior. "Well, with him out of the way at least, it will be safer for the rest of us to move around more…freely. He was the strongest corrupted witch not accounted for, and my own magic has become controlled enough that I should be able to come to the palace for visits."

My sister brightens at this. "You could bring Waltz to meet Mother, and we could all get to know each other better!" But then her smile slackens. "But…you still won't be living in the palace, even with your magic…safer? You said 'visits.'"

"There are more distractions there than here," I tell her. "Between my magical education and repairing the Tenebrarum, I really don't think I can fit much else on my plate just yet."

Rod's head comes up. "Then…you figured out how to fix it? That's good!"

I smile weakly at him. "Yes…but it will be…painful."

"…Not so good, then?" he asks.

I shut my eyes. "Actually, the methodology implies…though does not necessarily mandate…an increased risk of corruption."

" _Bad_ ," he decides.

 _If he qualifies that alone as 'bad,' I am not sure how he would describe my true circumstances…._

"It will actually be my job, to monitor your sister and make sure she doesn't…overextend herself," Waltz tells him when I have opened my eyes again.

Rod nods, somewhat relieved that there is at least a contingency plan in place to protect me. "But you think you still have about a year to work on it?"

I shake my head. "Between five and six months would probably be a better estimate."

Rod pales, and I smile at him. "Rod…you actually look worried for me," I note. "If I didn't know better, I would think that you cared."

"If you became corrupted, that would pull the entire kingdom into darkness and the war could be back," he tells me, and I only look at him expectantly. "And…if you died your father would be grieved. And my mother and sister wouldn't like it either…especially if you had not lived long enough for the baby to get here."

"I'm aware of that," I tell him. "And?"

He sighs. "Fine. I use to hate you, I admit it. I never mentioned it due to Emelaigne…but I can't hate you anymore. The more I learn about your…upbringing…the more I think I would have turned out the exact same way were our situations reversed. But now, you take your responsibilities _very_ seriously and actually care about at least some other people. I…don't want you to get hurt."

It is not long after that that they leave to return to the palace, with Delora to watch them.

"You must like having improved relationships with your family," Waltz comments.

"They are as much your family as mine now," I remind him, which prompts a small smile from him, but I sigh. "For the time being things have improved…but it hurts to know that any progress will merely be lost. Time will reset, and Rod will hate me again and Emelaigne will expect me to give her pain even as she stubbornly hopes for better. No progress I make endures…only I change. And they will have to get to know you all over again, even if you are on the best of terms at the end of this cycle."

Waltz shakes his head at me. "How have you done this for more than ten years?"

"With difficulty," I admit. "I had hoped that it was some specific 'ending' that would stop this…some happy, ideal conclusion that would finally make all of my problems go away. Now that I know the truth…that hope I hung onto for years seems…childish."

"You had no way of knowing differently," Waltz reminds me. "And as far as I know, this is the only time in history that something like this has happened. You had nothing to compare it against. It is not childish to hope for the best possible outcome."

I sigh. "I am so tired, Waltz." And I do not merely mean physically tired, although that is also true.

He nods slowly. "Then let's get back to our room."

"You will hold me tonight?" I ask. He does not hold me every night, but when he does, my problems seem smaller…more distant…and it has been a big day.

"You will always have whatever you need of me, little star."

….


	35. A Plan

**Chapter 35. A Plan**

"What do you know of the other Bearers, and how might they be convinced?" I ask.

I sit with Parfait, Delora, and Waltz in the private dining room the next day. In order for the gates to be opened so I can get my audience with the gods, I must be able to contact and convince at least four other Bearers to make a total of six of us. Delora has paper, ink, and pen at ready to list anything we will need in preparation for sending our parties out to the Bearers in Cedel and Brugantia. There are other Bearers elsewhere, but not close enough for my envoys to reach them within the prescribed time.

"Alicula of the fairies and Fulgur of the witches are located in Brugantia," Parfait begins. "They are on good terms with each other last I heard, and usually reside north of the capitol. Fulgur will be the easiest to find, as he usually lives in a keep on Brugantia's border with the sea. The witches there did not suffer the effects of the Witch Hunt common to Angielle, as he has his witches organized on the sea boarder to watch for pirates and raiders when the first fairytale book was published. The advanced notice they give the local militias has saved more than one coastline town."

And this makes sense to me. Far to the north, wild ice men dwell where few others care to try to survive, and they often raid for supplies and slaves instead of simply trading for their needs. Brugantia is technically within their reach…but Fulgur was crafty enough to organize his witches and present a plan to the Brugantian king to make witches valuable to the nation by using spellcasting to locate when and where the raiders would arrive. The Fairytales had not caused the same uproar as the Brugantian citizens were able to see the witches serving as a hedge against violent raiders on the coast. This is why many of the witches that had fled Angielle had gone to Brugantia…like the one that had cursed Klaude. Had she been native to Brugantia, in theory Klaude could have had his curse dispelled by Fulgur instead of needing to find me. Actually, it would not surprise me if Fulgur had told Klaude that I was the one that needed to dispel the curse.

"Fulgur," Parfait continues, "will be persuaded by any logical reason to cooperate with you. He had been proposing some…wider cooperation…between witches of different nations when the Fairytales started becoming popular. But then your mother…."

"Decided to deal with the problem with violence," I finish. "And his counterpart?"

"Alicula might be harder to find," Parfait admits. "She usually roams in the forest, camping in place and then another, but the local fairies should be able to point our searchers in the correct direction. She can be somewhat…flighty…and you might need Fulgur himself to settle her long enough to listen to the entire story, not to mention to pick her up on his way to the Throne of the gods. She does have a weakness for tales of true love, and will do much to enable lovers to be able to come together."

I nod. "Put Garlan down in the party to meet her, and Jurien in any other party or even leave her here even if she chooses to participate."

Delora's eyebrows raise. "You know that Garlan will choose to go?"

"He will if I tell him that I'll help him with Jurien during the next cycle," I say, "and his tale of wanting a second chance with Jurien might help convince Alicula to aid me."

"That…might actually work," Parfait admits. "And we need someone with at least some degree of diplomatic skill in the same party for Fulgur himself. It will let him know that you are serious about working with him if you send him someone competent in discussing matters."

"And the pair in Cedel?" I ask. That nation lies to the west of Angielle. Instead of being the semi-isolationist nation Brugantia is, Cedel seeks semi-formal expansion through annexation of the small city-states past its own western border, which have always been too disorganized and uncooperative with each other to resist them. Nations near their power, such as Angielle and Brugantia, are always dealt with fairly so long as we do not involve ourselves in what they consider 'their business.' Their people do not enjoy as much freedom as the citizens in Angielle enjoy, and lawbreakers are dealt with much more harshly than elsewhere. And this is why the Witch Hunt did not happen in Cedel…the population had been sure that they did not have the authority to kill anyone without a trial. In Cedel, if a sentence is carried out without a trial conducted by the proper authorities, those responsible will suffer the same sentence. There was only one documented case where a witch had been lynched by a mob. Soldiers had caught them just as the witch had been stabbed to death and the entire mob had been executed for participating in the murder of the witch. They all had their throats cut, exactly like the aforementioned witch.

That had put an end to all such behaviors.

Parfait gives a weak smile. "Publically, the witch Bearer there is Annoxis, and serves as an advisor to the king. In actuality, the Bearer is really Regius, the king's youngest cousin."

I blink. "What? I did not know that the king's family had any witch blood there, much less…."

"Two generations ago," Parfait explains, "the king…persuaded…the Tenebrarum Bearer to marry him and become his queen. He had hopes that their child would inherit both the throne and the Tenebrarum…but she gave birth to twins, and upon her death, the Tenebrarum chose the youngest to become Bearer when the eldest had already been crowned king. Annoxis is actually a descendent of that queen's brother. The Cedelian royal family chose to hide what had happened rather than admit that the attempt of consolidating power had not worked. The current king is actually a fairly weak witch, compared to what he might have been."

"Interesting," I say. _And my oldest will not_ necessarily _inherit the Tenebrarum. If I have more than one child…my two burdens might be split between them._ "And I suppose any personal communication from myself involving their king asking after the true Bearer could be seenas…gloating…since my mother succeeded in that, at least for one generation?"

"Possibly," Parfait admits.

"Does Regius possess anything a visiting dignitary might express interest in?" I ask instead, wondering if what I already have will be of use. Klaude could get into any court or noble house friendly to Brugantia, and I know that the relationship between Cedel and Brugantia is congenial.

Parfait blinks. "Well…his lands do include the entrance to a cave with lovely crystals. The public is kept out, but Regius does allow his guest to view them…under his supervision. The same crystals also have a variety of magical uses, and he would not want any damaged."

"Then it is good that Klaude likes shiny things," I note. "Once I dispel his curse, he would be a good ticket in, but he needs someone to keep him out of trouble."

Delora snorts. "You'll have to search long and hard for someone of that caliber."

And then Parfait and I glance at each other in realization. "We'll miss you," I tell my second favorite witch.

And Delora is so startled, she breaks the tip of her pen as she pushes it down too hard. "What?!"

"There is no one I trust with delicate situations more than you," I tell her.

"But…but…what if you need me here?" she practically splutters.

"We'll just have to manage," Parfait admits sadly. "And Waltz should be able to handle emergencies in your stead."

"And what possible cover would I have for traveling with a Brugantian prince if we are hiding that this is a delegation from you two?" she asks, and her eyes widen even further as I grin at her. "Oh _no_!"

"I know that you are probably old enough to be his mother," I tell her while I attempt not to laugh, "but that doesn't change the fact that you are beautiful enough to keep the attention of even a Casanova of prince, and could pass for twenty-five years old. And as a bonus, I will finally consider my revenge for being drug around by Mr. Broom all those years to be complete. Then I can start on my revenge for being cursed every six months." And I _so_ wish that I could be there, on this adventure, as Delora pretends to be Klaude's lover. I could tell her that he _is_ an excellent kisser, but that would not comfort her. I do no doubt that Klaude will have some fun with this. He will know that Delora is unlikely to get attached to him, and so he might 'overdo' the mandatory flirting necessary for their cover story. Though he might ask me to tell Delora that she is not allowed to curse him before they leave….

"You certainly wouldn't have to pretend to be married," Parfait notes, looking like she is struggling with laughter herself. "You could simply be his lady love. We can send a female fairy with a cover as being your maid or chaperone."

Delora looks between the two of us, as if trying to decide which of us she could dissuade, before finally turning to Waltz. "Please tell them this won't work!"

"I don't know about that," my husband says with a small grin of his own, possibly remembering times when Delora has had fun at _his_ expense. "I really can't think of a better plan. And if you remember, I am not cursed anymore and can actually be useful in a crisis."

"Fine," Delora practically snarls. "But you two owe me!"

"If it helps," I reply, "I'm not sure that he will enjoy this much more than you…on the other hand, he will probably find it amusing. And as far as owing you…once your part in your agreement with me is met, you will not remember this trip in the next cycle. This actually disappoints me, since I would _love_ to find out what exactly happens when the two of you try to work together." _Maybe I can ask Regius if we have a chance to talk…he should remember something about how he accepted my offer._

Delora sighs, and Parfait continues. "Veles of the fairies," Parfait says, "is the final Bearer. He is not…exactly…on poor terms with his counterpart, but the only communication between them is to ensure that they are not interfering with each other. Fairies there interact much more with the common people, while most witches enjoy positions granted them due to the deal the Bearer that married the king made. He is something of an oddity, as he uses conventional weapons when he thinks he has to dispatch someone that threatens those under his protection. He distrusts nobles in general, and it will probably take more to convince him to come than it will anyone else."

"Fritz," I say, instinctively.

Delora jots it down after magically repairing her pen, but then looks at me. "Why Fritz? How do you think he can appeal to Veles?"

"He will be the most persistent," I decide. "He is not of noble birth, and is a good swordsman. He can also tell Veles of my own skill with the sword since he has witnessed it, which might make me more…passable…to him."

"It might help," Parfait admits. "It would not hurt at any rate. So, we will need a total of three parities…one for Brugantia since those Bearers are typically near each other only one should be necessary, and two for Cedel."

I nod. "Is there enough coin in what my father sent for my education to cover expenses? I could ask father for some more, and explain that I need to contact other Bearers for help."

"I believe so," Parfait says. "I kept it in an account, like you suggested, instead of immediately settling my debts. Once I heard your explanation, I guessed that we would have to contact the other Bearers and sent for fairies and witches close enough to help, and some are starting to arrive in the city already. They can round out the parities. For a delegation between Bearers, there should be at least one of each in every party sent."

"Very well," I say, and then give a wry grin. "As soon as everyone that can come is here…you can help Waltz and I explain this mess to everyone."

…..

It is a few days later that I sit down for lunch with Karma and Fritz, who are already deep in discussion about something. "Do you mind if I join you?" I ask them, and both men move their own trays over to make room for me at one of the smaller tables.

"You are certainly welcome, Princess," Karma says, getting up to pull the third and final chair at the table out for me.

Since I told him that I could not continue to practice with the knights and why, the news spread and the denizens and the customers of the Marchen started treating me as if I was made of glass. The customers, at any rate, may not particularly care one way or the other for my child…but Waltz's child deserves every consideration in their eyes. The boarders are so careful with me, that I am finding it difficult to do much for myself. I had to insist to Annice that I was capable of carrying my own meal trays for her to allow me out of the kitchen without her carrying it for me. I am in no way pregnant enough to warrant being treated as an invalid. Though with all that has happened lately, I am finding it hard to believe that it has been just a little less than two weeks since the night that changed everything.

Fritz and Karma had been together when I said that Parfait had confirmed that I had a son on the way. My knight's smile had not reached his eyes as he congratulated me.

"Though there is not also room at this table for your husband, unless you prefer we all move to a larger one?" Karma says, looking around for Waltz.

"Waltz is on an errand," I say, sitting down after placing my tray on the table. He has gone to confirm the arrival of the last fairy Parfait is expecting, and to tell them all to meet us at the Marchen tomorrow afternoon directly after lunch. That he is gone at all, and that Delora has not replaced him, shows that they think that I have gained enough control of my magic that I do not have to be supervised every minute. In some ways, it's something of a relief. I have been judged unlikely to accidently kill people.

"Apparently, in Angielle, even princes cannot escape errands," Karma notes.

"With Waltz off on one today, the fact that Rod is being used for messages between myself and the palace, and your own situation I would have to agree with you," I say. "Neither Waltz nor Rod complain about it, but then, they were not born princes like you were."

Karma's eyes widen as he slowly lowers himself back into his chair, and Fritz's fork drops out of his hand and clatters onto his plate. "What?" Fritz asks.

"Who told you?" Karma asks warily, and then glances at Fritz and sighs. He looks around quickly to see if we are near enough anyone else that might have heard us, but the nearest patrons are several tables away and are paying us no mind. "My father is the king of Brugantia. A witch from Angielle cursed me," he explains to Fritz, "and I came here hoping the Princess would dispel that curse. While she should be able to do so since she dispelled her brother's curse, unfortunately she appears to be unable to remember how she accomplished that."

"Oh," Fritz says quietly.

"Well, there is both good and bad news concerning my ability to dispel curses," I admit. "The good news is that I think I know how I did it…the bad news is that the dispelling will only last five or six months due to other…circumstances."

During my lessons, I have succeeded in getting the odd vision with the colors to return, and Waltz refers to it as my 'second sight.' As opposed to more common spells like the one Parfait used to find out if my mother was waiting for her in the private dining area on the first day, this one allows me not only knowledge of a person's status in magic use, but I can sense the assortment of curses that had been cast. I tried using it in the common room last night, when it was crowded, and saw a wide variety of curses on the patrons. There might have been one or two nearly as repugnant and dark as Rod's had been, which I classify as capable of causing serious injury or death, a larger majority of dark grey ones I would guess were either not well deserved or nearly impossible to break but not dangerous, and some light grey ones that I did not find offensive at all. The last would probably meet the classification of strictly instructional curses that it might be better to let stand. I had not tried to will any of them away at that time.

Karma looks at me warily. "I hear an 'unless' in your voice, Princess."

I nod. "I need help from the Bearers in Brugantia and Cedel. Parfait has gathered witches and fairies that are willing to serve as our emissaries to them, but we will need other help as well. Either or both of you would be welcome additions to the parties we will send out."

"And if their help is procured, you will be able to dispel curses permanently?" Karma asks, and I nod. "And you will dispel my curse permanently?"

I nod again. "I would need to dispel your curse on a temporary basis for this mission, but if I get the help I need, I should be able to dispel it on a permanent basis."

'"Should be able to,' Princess?" Karma asks, looking very worried, possibly wondering if it might be impossible for his curse to be dispelled at all.

I shrug. "I will if I can, but there is always the chance that the gods might decide to smite me," I say, a little tongue in cheek. According to Parfait, Bearers that enter the gods' domain always come back out, but I suppose that there is a first time for everything.

"Why," Fritz asks, eyeing me carefully, "do you sound like you believe that might be a plausible outcome?"

 _Because the last part of that prophecy referred to my blood on holy ground, which could mean anything from a small cut to death itself. It's the one thing I haven't told anyone…I know that I cannot escape it. That witch has been correct so far, and they would only worry._ "If you decide you want to participate, we'll tell you about it tomorrow at the meeting," I explain. "For now…let's just say that I'm trying to undo something my mother is responsible for. One of the side effects of her action is that my dispelling of curses can only be temporary until certain conditions are fulfilled."

"And undoing that would be a worthy cause, in and of itself, no matter what is needful I'm sure," Karma admits. "You can count on my aid, Princess. If I must earn the end of my curse in some way, so be it. I…suppose that I earned my way into my curse in the first place."

I nod in thanks, and my gaze returns to my knight, who sighs. "You need the help, but…I would be leaving you alone," he says sadly.

I shake my head at him. "You wouldn't be leaving me alone, Fritz. You can trust Waltz to take care of me. He fights with just as much dedication as you do…he just uses a different weapon, and ironically looks like he could cause less damage than you. You would be leaving me in the care of my husband."

"Yes…I…I would be, wouldn't I," my knight says slowly. His mouth twists bitterly. "I am doing you no good, here. I may as well help as I can. I will be there tomorrow. Officially, I may need permission to be neither with you, nor fulfilling my other duties in the palace."

"That is reasonable; I'll arrange it before you leave. And…thank you Fritz. I know that I can always count on you," I say, and this rates a smile from him. "I should warn you though…some of the things I will say will not be easy for you to hear. Some of it concerns your father."

His smile from my praise fades. "You have found something additional to what Garlan and Jurien overheard?"

"I'll explain tomorrow, Fritz," I say regretfully. "Just…I just wanted you to be prepared to hear the worst."

"Thank you for your…consideration…but if you have the strength to deal with what your mother was," Fritz tells me, "I can deal with whatever my father is."

 _It's not that different Fritz…they both betrayed us. Your parent has had you cursed to turn you into someone completely different, completely disregarding the person you are; my parent has been trying to corrupt me for years, completely disregarding the person that I am._

 _Neither one of us were what they wanted us to be…depraved like them…so they tried to change us to exploit us. Rather than love us as we were, they tried to lead us to corruption. It would have been better had they simply abandoned us instead._

And I realize now why, in spite of the fact that I know that I am in love with Waltz…it has still been a little hard for me to let go of Fritz. I look at my knight, and see the closest mirror to my own struggles that I have ever found. I want to comfort him, just as I want the same comfort myself. But I am sworn to another man, and can only pray that Fritz will find another woman to give him the joy he deserves…what I cannot give him myself. 

"I hope that you are correct," I tell him quietly, but I know that he is. In my mind, I can still see Fritz kneeling before my father, offering the king the use of an already bloody sword.

…..

The Marchen is shut to regular business, but the common room is still about half-full. There were too many to fit comfortably in the private dining room, so Parfait put a sound barrier around the common room where the customers normally dine, and shut the drapes instead lighting the room with small magical globes suspended from the ceiling. The tables are still arranged, but with the chairs all facing toward a focal point where Parfait and I sit.

At the tables sit all of the borders, as it would be difficult to hide what is happening from even the ones that will remain at the Marchen, as well as the various fairies and good witches Parfait has invited. I recognize a few of the faces, as I have seen some of them in the Marchen before, but others are unfamiliar and I assume that they were the ones that had to travel to reach here. Karma, now that I have rid him of his curse, sits quite happily dressed as a man. As soon as I had accomplished it this morning, he had returned to his room to dress, and spent the next hour in the streets just walking around, enjoying not being mobbed by women. I am sure that he still enjoyed the ladies' admiring glances, however.

"Thank you all for coming," Parfait starts, and the crowd that had been chattering among themselves silences as they turn their attention to the Lucis Bearer. "Several impossible things have been happening over the course of the last few weeks. We have been able to identify the reason behind them, and I beg you all to keep an open mind as we explain it."

"Like the reason the new Tenebrarum Bearer can use her power at the age of seventeen when she is a half-blood?" a grey haired witch at the first table asks. "I heard she even dispelled her brother's curse…and then there was the storm that every witch in Angielle noticed."

I give a weak smile. "The storm was something of an accident. But since that is what it took to kill Mother, I cannot really say that I am sorry that it happened."

And then every eye in the audience widens. "Hildyr was still…" a male witch in a black coat asks.

"She survived by installing herself in the Tenebrarum," Parfait explains. "It stabilized the Crystallum from the damage that occurred when we fought, and she had planned to have her faithful apprentice, Myth, convince or force Lucette to release her when Lucette's magic awoke. But…Lucette was not cooperative."

All eyes turn to me now. "I know what she tends to do when she is released, but this time the Tenebrarum was nearly shattered a few hours before I woke the morning before the storm. I receive power directly from the Tenebrarum itself when I feed it my own negative emotions and it uses this 'feeding' to repair itself. I was only able to marginally control that power that night, but shards shifted within the Crystallum as it partially healed itself, and one of them cut my mother's throat…which is how she died this time."

"This time?" another fairy asks.

Then Parfait launches into an explanation of what we had found out from Myth, concerning my mother's deal with Chaos, how I had been repeating the same months of my life over and over again, and that in each cycle previous to know I had lived in the Marchen as the result of a curse placed upon me.

"Surely you realize how unlikely this sounds, Bearer," a fairy that I have never seen before says.

"That is because it is unlikely," I admit. "And I would be skeptical had anyone else been telling me that they experienced this. However, I do have evidence indicating that this is the truth." I turn to Karma, starting with the lesser evidence first. "You, Jurien, and Garlan are actually responsible for me ability to use a sword. I asked you for lessons once after someone had gotten injured protecting me. This is why Fritz had no knowledge of me being able to use one…I did not learn until after leaving the palace."

Karma stares at me. "If you have lived here for so long, what kind of a curse did I have?"

"You were cursed by a witch who's heart you broke. She used the Beauty and the Beast curse to punish you, and you play both roles," I answer him. "You are 'Beauty' when dressed as a man, and women flock to you so much so you have trouble simply walking around town. If you fall in love, you turn into…."

"Never mind," he says, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, and I notice Waltz's eyes flicker in his direction for a second, and nod as if something has been confirmed. I have not explained any of my previous romantic interests to my husband because he has not asked, but he probably guesses that Karma had been among them. I doubt that Waltz is upset by this, given Karma has no idea about it, and because he might consider Karma a tolerable choice for me to make. "I'm convinced," he finishes. "You would have to be working with the sword for several years to have the degree of skill with it that you do…and that would have been practically impossible to hide were you taking lessons in the palace unless Fritz had been teaching you…and he denies it."

"What about me?" Rumpel asks, curiously.

"You are a doctor, and a good one," I tell him. "Unfortunately, you have a rather bad habit of ignoring your duties to yourself and those closest to you in favor of your patients, and the Witch Doctor cursed you. I'm fairly certain she had your best interests at heart when she did so. You merely have to find people connected to you with written entries concerning you, and your curse will break. As you find more, your knowledge of medicine and your other memories will return. I suggest starting out by looking for a young boy that usually gives you your first diary entry. Your ex-fiancée has your old journals. I am not sure how much of this you would want me to say in public, but your relationship with her did not end well, and I cannot say that fault was necessarily one-sided either."

"I…thank you, Princess. Perhaps I will ask you more on that later." Rumpel is quiet for a moment. "I suppose that living the same months again would make you older than seventeen, and that explains why you can use magic now if you are not supposed to be able to use it until you turn eighteen?"

"Yes and no," I tell him. "Even though I am mentally older, I am typically physically reset at the start of each new cycle. This is the first time I was not, so this is the first time I have been able to use magic or control the Tenebrarum at the start."

"It makes sense now…" Fritz says quietly, just loud enough to be heard at first but growing louder. "You…you changed. It was not overnight; it was over ten years!"

I smile weakly at him. "It is actually probably getting close to eleven by now."

"You smile," my knight continues, "you apologize if you believe you have done wrong, you are pleasant to your stepsiblings, you fell in love…in another cycle…or over several perhaps?"

My smile is now genuine. "This is actually the fourth cycle Waltz and I will be spending together…but this is the first time he remembers anything at all from another cycle. Until now, I was the only one that remembered anything that happened during the past cycles."

"We got married during the last cycle," Waltz explains now. "And since as a witch my promises are binding, I have to remember them to perform what I have promised. I basically remember the ceremony itself and everything that occurred afterwards. So, I woke up at the start of this cycle thinking that I had merely had an incredibly vivid, and highly unusual dream."

"If I may ask…how unusual?" Karma asks from beside him.

"It started when the wedding ceremony did," Waltz tells him. "We were in the throne room with her father on his throne, a room full of nobles, and a Chaos priest to conduct the ceremony. I was in my common clothes, and she was in a blood-stained wedding dress. Immediately afterwards, Fritz, Parfait, Jurien, and Garlan hauled in Alcaster to accuse him of treason, Lucette explained that she had just held a counter-coup, saved her family from both Alcaster and Myth, and switched grooms at the last minute—then we all held an execution right then and there. So yes, it was an unusual wedding."

"The word 'unusual' implies that someone might repeat it; this qualifies as 'unique,'" Karma decides. "No one is ever going to repeat _that_."

I look over at Fritz who seems slightly pale. "I'm so sorry Fritz, but it is true…your father and Myth conspire to take over Angielle." I then go on to explain most of what I had told Parfait, Delora, and Waltz last week, minus the part concerning my multiple paramours. I owe no explanation of them to anyone but Waltz, and he really has not asked me. I cover what happened once I entered the palace in some detail, up though the execution at my wedding.

"I take it that something happened during this last cycle is responsible for the changes in this one?" a witch that I recognize but cannot name asks.

I nod. "I became pregnant at the end of the last cycle, on my wedding night. The Tenebrarum was damaged keeping me static while the rest of the world reset in order to protect my son…potentially its next Bearer."

"Then that you could die if the Tenebrarum shatters…what you told your father about why you needed to get married…" Fritz begins.

"Is actually a legitimate danger, if not the real reason we had to marry immediately," I tell him. "If the cycles resets before the Tenebrarum is healed, it will probably shatter completely trying to protect my son and we could both die. I do not know if I would find myself alive again at the start of a new cycle or not…but it is quite likely the baby would remain dead."

In the awkward silence following this, Parfait launches into her explanation of finding the most convincing proof that the cycles had occurred—her discovery that I was carrying Waltz's child when I first entered the Marchen before his curse was broken. I hear some snickering from Delora's direction as she is still unable to hid her mirth concerning Parfait's initial confusion about the matter. Parfait sighs when she notices her friend's amusement, and goes on to talk about how this explains the Tenebrarum's instability, my use of magic, how we had discovered my mother's wager with Chaos, and our plan of what to do about it.

"What we actually need from all of you," Parfait finishes, "is for you to find and convince the Bearers in Brugantia and Cedel to meet us at the Throne of the gods, so we can gain entry."

"And you are hoping to accomplish…" one of the witches asks quietly.

"I plan to see if I can find what should be my copy of the original agreement, to see if it is even possible to fulfil it," I answer. "If I cannot find out what the task I am supposed to accomplish is, my only other option to stop these cycles…short of embracing corruption…is to attempt to renegotiate my mother's contract with Chaos. I am sure that I will manage to experience the amount of pain that drove my mother insane eventually—for all I know I may have done so already over the years—but I have no way of knowing how close I am to it at this time."

I close my eyes for a moment, and then open them to look over the gathering of people. "As to my knowledge, getting an audience with the gods is the only chance I have to save my son, and perhaps myself as well. I cannot pretend that the events I have seen happen over the last decade have not worn on me…not that I am saying that I believe myself close to corruption, necessarily. It's just that I have seen kith and kin die fairly often…some of you more than once…and that is never easy to deal with." I eye the two greatest offenders. "Actually, Parfait and Fritz tend to die the most often…and I would appreciate it if you would _stop_ doing that."

"I'm sure we didn't do it on purpose," Fritz says warily, but the fairy beside me gives me a weak smile.

"She destroyed the Lucis in order to stop my mother knowing that it would kill them both," I admit, "so…technically, that one _was_ on purpose." I take a deep breath. "Fritz, I'm sorry to have to say this, but your father _has_ killed you before. There was a time when you were fighting your curse, and had reverted back to yourself only to fight your father. You became distracted during your fight, and he killed you. You tried to reason with him, tried to tell him that this was not the way to gain power…but it did not do any good. I'm sorry, but there is no way you can save him—no way to successfully appeal to him—anymore than there is for me to do the same for my own mother. They are both irreversibly lost."

My knight's shoulder's slump, and his gaze leaves mine to stare at the table, and I hear Parfait sigh from beside me as well. The fairy still remembers the woman my mother once was, and I am not sure that she has entirely accepted the fact that her friend is dead.

"Speaking of family," Jurien asks, "what, if anything, are you telling yours, Princess?"

"I can tell them nothing," I sadly admit. "The end or the realization of the three threats—Mother, Alcaster, and Myth—tends to result in the end of a cycle. With only Alcaster left of the three, I have to take special care to not stop him from being dangerous, though I might be able to slow him down. He will be more dangerous if Father is unaware, so I cannot tell my family. Under normal circumstances, I can usually trust Rod to keep his mouth shut about something important, but you see…I've already broken his curse. And Rod does rash things every now and then. He is really more of a child than he would admit to. Right now, the only thing they know about the situation is that the Tenebrarum is unstable, and that I must spend time repairing it or else risk my own death."

"Is there anyone here that does not wish to participate in helping us?" Parfait quietly asks in the silence that follows.

"Please keep in mind," Delora says, "that failure _potentially_ means another corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer and Great War, which would also stop the cycles. I am sure that all of us that fought in the War or hid in the Witch Hunt had at least one friend or relative that ended up being corrupted; the loss of a child was a common reason for this."

There is some uncomfortable shifting in a few chairs, but no one says anything. And I think that this is the wrong way to go about it. These people need to be convinced in order to be convincing. "Let me put it another way. Everyone that feels themselves willing and able to participate in some way, please raise your hands."

Every hand in the room goes up. Some go up quickly, others slow but steadily, but everyone has a hand raised in the air. And I cannot help but smile. Parfait also smiles from beside me.

"And the next step?" Karma asks.

"You all separate into groups, search out the various Bearers, and tell them what we have told you. We already have assignments made," Parfait acknowledges. She then names the first group going to Brugantia, which includes Garlan and several witches and fairies that I do not know well to locate Alicula and Fulgur. She also gives what she knows of their personalities, likes, and dislikes. "We expect the Bearers in Cedel to be more difficult," she states. "The team going to Regius, the king's cousin, needs to have no overt connection to Lucette as well as a cover story."

"I volunteer for that," Karma announces. "Brugantia has good diplomatic relationships with Cedel…we agree to leave each other alone and conduct equitable trade…and as a prince I can get into _any_ lord's house as a guest."

"Good," I say, "because that is where you are going."

"And my cover story…" he asks.

"Unless you can think of a better one that fits the Casanova reputation you have," Parfait says with an ever so slight smile, "you are showing your lady love the world."

"My…ah…and that would be…?" Karma asks, looking around the room.

"Just so you know," Delora bites while glaring at Karma, "I did _not_ volunteer for this role!"

Several people laugh quietly around us as Karma looks back at Delora like a man that has discovered a snake crawling out of a boot had had meant to put on. "So…I got into this mess by flirting with a witch…and to get out of it permanently by getting these cycles stopped…I need to flirt with another witch?"

"That's about the size of it," I say with poorly restrained humor. "Parfait and I thought that she would be the most likely to keep you out of trouble, as well as attractive enough to be believable in the role."

"Trouble? Me?" Karma asks with a winning smile.

"You don't die as often as Fritz does," I tell him as his smile wanes, "but it _has_ been known to happen."

Parfait smiles, and names a fairy from the back row that manages to be hatchet-faced as their companion. It is left to their discretion if the fairy is introduced as Delora's maid, or her chaperone. She continues to describe Veles, the remaining fairy Bearer, and names Fritz as among those being sent to meet him. I also explain that it is important that at least one swordsman be with the fairy and witch sent to meet Veles considering his own talents.

"Why me instead of Garlan?" Fritz asks quietly.

"Because it will be harder to convince Veles than either Brugantian Bearer," I answer, "and you do not fail me, Fritz. Even when you do die, you still do not fail me."

My knight nods slowly, and gratefully too, I think.

Parfait explains that we have money from the gold my father gave for my education to finance the journeys, and announces that there are refreshments in the upstairs dining area for those that wish them. The various parties are told to choose who organizes each unit, and most of the guests and boarders filter upstairs to the private dining room and sitting area chattering.

Fritz remains in his chair, staring at the table with an almost vacant expression. I sigh, knowing that I need to explain to him how much I truly owe him…and that now is the time to do so.

….

 _Author's note:_

 _Ok, it's test time for me, so I'll be spending this week studying instead of writing! I'll still be answering reviews (so don't forget to send them!), but don't expect the next chapter for about a week or so…._

 _For background clarification, the Throne of the gods is basically a cross between Mount Olympus and heaven. It is a physical place…or at least the entrance to it is…but living mortals are only allowed in under certain circumstances. It is the permanent dwelling of both Order and Chaos (your standard duality equal/opposite pairing), and the souls of 'good' deceased mortals._

 _Lucette's copy of the contract is written on a magical object, although no one has correctly guessed which one yet! And yes, I mentioned it before more than once in part one, but Lucette did not realize its true significance at the time. In theory, it could have been within her reach the entire time…. ;) Sneaky, sneaky, irony loving Chaos…._


	36. A Point of Gratitude

**Chapter 36. A Point of Gratitude**

Waltz comes to sit beside me when Parfait leaves to go upstairs, and we answer a few last questions, while the others leave one by one. Finally, only one other person remains. Fritz has not moved from his seat. The others have left him alone, as he stares blankly at the table, probably figuring that he needs a little space as he wraps his mind around what his father is.

I know that there is more to it than that. He has to be wondering if the curse Myth gives him is what stopped any chance of me loving him. Fritz knows that I would not have loved a ruffian.

I get up from my own chair, pause a moment as I realize that I feel a bit queasy today, and sit down beside my knight. My husband gets up only to lean against the next table over, facing us but not intruding in Fritz's space. For a moment, neither Fritz nor I say anything. But when he sighs and turns from staring at the table to look at me, I speak. "Thank you Fritz."

"For what, Princess?" he asks.

"Every time your fight your curse, you do so to protect me," I tell him. "Even in your alter-ego condition, you still try to protect me. This last time, I had made a promise to marry my mother's apprentice. I would have had to keep it had Waltz died and Myth lived…and you kept that from happening because you killed Myth when you did."

Fritz's head comes up, and he stares at me, shocked.

"You could have let Myth kill Waltz when Waltz was distracted by worry over me. You might have been able to kill Myth after that and I would be released from my promise to marry at all…but there is no guarantee it would have happened that way." Considering the fortune-teller's words to Waltz…his life really had depended on Fritz loving me enough to let me choose Waltz. If Fritz _had_ hesitated, Waltz would have died. "When not distracted by fighting Waltz, Myth could have noticed and killed or recursed you. My sister would not have been rescued, Parfait and the others with her might not have been notified to act quickly enough, I would have had to marry Myth. Depending on how quickly he had acted…this baby might have been his," I admit, and Fritz turns white. I know that Myth would have demanded what he had, in his eyes, paid for.

"I had been planning to kill him with a knife I was keeping on my person if it came down to it," I admit, unable to stop a shiver, "but I'm not sure how far I would have let him go, how distracted he would have to be, before I tried to kill him myself." It occurs to me to wonder if Myth would have found the knife that had been strapped to my leg, as Waltz had that night, but before I had a chance to use it. Possibly not…somehow I doubt Myth would have bothered with foreplay.

"Fritz," I continue, "with everything else that I have to deal with, I'm not sure if I would have had the strength to deal with that as well. I…think that it would have been the sort of thing to wear on me, eventually. It is entirely possible that not only I, but the entire kingdom, may owe you for keeping my sanity intact, and it is with my deepest gratitude that I thank you. With that one action, you may have prevented another Great War from happening, even though you don't remember taking it."

"I…really don't know what to say to that, Princess," Fritz admits, a little pink in his cheeks. "In that situation, I can't see myself doing anything else. For events to have happened that way, and assuming I was not able to see through the curtain…I was probably waiting until it was certain Myth would be distracted so he wouldn't see me coming. There is no time any fighter is more distracted than when he is about to land a killing blow on someone else, and there is no better time to land a killing blow than when your opponent is distracted. I must have decided it was time to strike when Waltz yelled your name."

"And you changed everything," I tell him with a smile.

Fritz takes a deep breath. "You said that I broke my curse this last time…" he trails off.

I nod. "You have broken your curse exactly twice," I tell him. "One other time, and this last time…when I actually needed you the most. To break it yourself, Varg has to leave, be reabsorbed back into you, voluntarily. This happens when he decides that he loves me as much as you do, and realizes that I need you beside me instead of him."

Now Fritz turns bright red, and glances up past me to where Waltz is still standing. My eyes do not leave Fritz, but I am sure that while my husband may be watching with interest, he is not upset by this. Waltz knows that he owes Fritz as much as I do, and I doubt that he blames Fritz for loving me.

"You know," Fritz finally says. "I…don't think that I ever could have told you, myself, but you still found out." He is silent for a moment. "You are married now, and to a man that comes closer to deserving you than I ever would. Perhaps I should not ask this, but throughout all these cycles…did you ever feel anything for me?"

I cannot help but give him one of my smiles that he covets so much. "Fritz, I admire your dedication, your loyalty. I have the utmost respect for the strength you show as you deal with things that would shatter most other people. You do not shirk when you have stand against your father, when he has betrayed you; and your own struggles in that area are the closest echo I know of to what I have to deal with concerning my own mother. You mean so very much to me, and I still do love you Fritz…but not in the way you wanted me to, now."

"Still? Now?" Fritz asks, as if he is not sure if he wants the answer or not. "So…you did love me once?"

I sigh as I nod. Since he asked…. "I…was not sure if it would hurt you less if you knew that I had chosen another man above you, or if you thought that I never had any romantic feelings for you at all. But you deserve the truth…you deserve better than to be any woman's second choice."

"Why did you chose Waltz over me?" he asks.

"A couple of reasons," I admit. "Your path was…bloody. A lot more people died, even when you lived. And…while I appreciate that you always accepted me for who I was and were always loyal to me, Waltz knew that I was capable of becoming a good woman, and he helped me to want to be better person. This is important for a variety of reasons. I am less likely to fall to corruption, and I think I will be better able to rule Angielle when it is my time to do so, with him at my side."

Fritz nods slowly. "I…think that I can accept those reasons. Both you and Angielle needed him more than you did me. I always knew that an…attachment between us would be unlikely, and that you would eventually end up with another man. At least he is someone that will protect you as I would; someone that you can be happy with."

"And there are few things I wish more than that you could find happiness with someone that loves and deserves you," I tell my knight.

Fritz sighs. "Is that why you told me that I could have your sister if I wanted her?"

"Emelaigne really is smitten," I admit. "And she really is yours for the taking. She has never developed interest in anyone else during these cycles. Actually, she was even attracted to you as Varg when he showed up at a ball to find her a husband. Perhaps she recognized you under the mask…I do not know. Perhaps she even accepts the ruffian part of you that you hide so well."

"She's a sweet girl," Fritz admits, "but I do not know that she compares to you."

"You don't know her that well yet," I tell him. "It is true that she flaunts her emotions as much as I keep mine reserved, but she does have an inner strength that is not so different from mine. You just have not seen her in a situation in which she has to use it, that you can remember anyway."

"I…think that I would rather take your word for it than see her need to demonstrate it," Fritz admits. "Either way, what is important now is that you get the help you need from the other Bearers. And unless you manage to experience the amount of pain needed to stop the cycles during this cycle and figure out what else you need to do…it will not matter."

I nod. "There is that," I admit. "We might have to have this conversation again in another six months or so."

My knight shakes his head at me. "I don't even know how you have been doing it. You keep fighting, even knowing that in the long run, whatever you do will not matter."

"But it will someday," I tell him. "And I know that I need to treat every cycle as if it actually were the last; it is how I keep hope that they _will_ end someday. Someday, I will have to live with the consequences of my actions. I'd rather they be consequences that I can afford."

….

The rest of the afternoon involves preparation for the parties leaving the Marchen the next morning, but as Waltz and I are going nowhere, we do not participate in those discussions. My only part is getting Fritz permission to leave Angielle. In theory, I could just walk up to the gates and be let into the palace through normal means, but that sounds…ordinary. Which is why my husband and I stand in the clearing while he teaches me a new spell after supper.

"You almost got it that time, Lucette," Waltz says from beside me as I try the spell again.

Light crystalizes in front of me as I try to fold two places together, with only a passable magic barrier between them. I pause, and then let go of my magic when I hear, "Princess…might I have a word?"

I turn around to see Garlan approaching. "Of course," I tell him, and the knight comes to stand before me, and I immediately read that he is nervous about something. "Is this about Jurien?" I ask.

He sighs. "Yes Princess," he tells me. "I…we won't see each other for months, since she is remaining here. Even if she doesn't love me…I don't want her hurt by anything. I will not be here to look out for her for the first time since we were children."

"I can make no promises," I tell him, "about who will and who will not be hurt this cycle. This one has little in common with any of the others." Garlan draws a deep breath, and his shoulders slump a little. "At least," I tell him, "if anything does happen, it will not be permanent."

He looks up at me sharply. "I would not have her suffer, even if I know that it would merely be undone, and her memories and mine of it erased."

"Nor would I, if I had choice in the matter," I tell him. "But I will be spending more time in the palace this cycle than the others, since my family does remember me…and I cannot undo her banishment without revealing Alcaster for what he is…and I cannot do that at least until the Tenebrarum is repaired and I have affirmative promises from the other Bearers. You, all the others, and I must successfully complete our tasks first. Jurien will not be able to remain with me all the time, and Parfait will need her to run sensitive errands. Given that we are unlikely to be together most of the time, I can give you no assurances for her safety, as much as I wish I could."

"Think of this another way," Waltz suggests, trying to console him. "Things may be strained between the two of you now, but in a matter of months if all goes well, you will have another chance…the one chance that will actually matter."

Garlan is silent for a moment, considering that. "In these other cycles…was…was I ever able to tell her how I felt?"

"Yes," I tell him. "Though you needed a fair amount of encouragement before you would do so."

"Did I _always_ need someone to get me to tell her?" Garlan asks, sounding disappointed with himself.

"Well," I consider, "I suppose there was that one time when you were trying to get it out, but drowned in your own blood first. Mother had gotten lose and…."

Both of the men beside me shiver. "Actually," Garlan says quietly, "I was wondering how Jurien responded when I was able to tell her."

I nod. "She doesn't exactly jump into your arms, but she is happy and receptive, and after that point the rest of us take it for granted that the two of you are a couple. She allows herself to be vulnerable around you. She would not give consideration to anyone she doesn't trust…and she trust you most of all."

Garlan nods slowly. "And…I threw the chance for that away by not telling her how I felt."

"Would you like me to give you a shove in her direction during the next cycle?" I offer. "I am perfectly willing to do so. I have counted the both of you as friends for some time now, and you two seem happiest when you are together."

The knight seems to relax a little. "Would you, Princess?"

I smile at him. "Why do you think you are being sent to Alicula? She adores getting lovers together, and might be more receptive to helping me so I can help you with _your_ plight. I would love to be able to help you with this; and it is not like I have not done it before."

"I…would be very grateful, Princess," he tells me.

"And I am grateful for your assistance, as well," I tell Garlan as I reach for my husband's hand. "The 'happily ever after' will not come for anyone until this is resolved. We all have to work together to get that chance."

Garlan thanks me again before returning to the inn, and my husband pulls me into him, quite nearly resting his chin on the top of my head. "You are right, of course," he tells me, speaking only when we appear to be alone again. '"Happily ever after' will not come until this is done."

I turn to look up at him. "That doesn't mean that we cannot find ourselves a piece of it right now."

Waltz smiles at me before leaning down to thoroughly kiss me. "I think I would like finding that with you," he tells me once he has put me down. Still, I hold onto his arm. For some reason, my knees do not seem to be working correctly.

It is a few minutes before I am able to concentrate on the task at hand and return to my lesson. It is only after I succeed in making a portal to our room in the Marchen that I set my sights on my true target for the night—the private parlor of my father's suite in the palace. If he is not there, we can wait for him until he arrives. As his bedroom is immediately off it, he will have to come sooner or later. It hurts a little to realize that I have no idea what my own father's normal routine is, while I can state the routines of my friends in the Marchen with great detail.

I have rarely entered this room, as my mother dwelt…laired…in a different suite in the palace. The last time I was here was when I was called here on my seventeenth birthday when my father gave me Delora. I had no idea at the time that what my father thought was a simple present would change my life. I remember removing the bright paper away, and opening the box to see Delora. I had been expecting an ordinary, if lovely, doll as that is what he had given me in years past, but Delora was…exquisite.

I had very nearly smiled before reminding myself that of _course_ the king would be able to procure me the loveliest doll in Angielle, that this is what I should expect of him. Now, I am ashamed just remembering that thought. I use to take so much for granted. But never again.

I take a deep breath, and try to make a portal into my father's parlor, and succeed on my second try. Waltz takes a look at it, and smiles at me. "It's stable enough to go through," he tells me.

I smile at him, and take his hand as I walk through the light pulling my husband behind me, only to find myself in my father's parlor. Only when my husband comes completely through do I let go of my spell. "I did it!" I say with a grin, as Waltz smiles back at me.

My head turns around at the sound of something crashing to the floor, and I turn around to see my father sitting with Ophelia on a couch near a coffee table, where a maid had been serving them tea. The crashing sound was the maid dropping a silver plate of small pastries on the floor. All three of them are wide-eyed, staring at Waltz and myself who have just appeared out of thin air.

"Oh…I hope we are not interrupting," I tell my father and Ophelia. It occurs to me to wonder if they are more surprised that I appeared out of thin air, or that I was smiling when I did so. "I suppose that I neglected to tell you we were coming over."

"Oh, not at all!" Ophelia tells me with a smile, as she gets up from the couch to come over to meet us. "And this must be Waltz?"

"Yes…ah…how would you like me to address you?" Waltz asks Ophelia with an uncertain smile.

'"Mother' would be fine," Ophelia tells him. "If you are uncomfortable with that in any way, 'Ophelia' also works. And I believe that I have yet to congratulate the two of you, both on your marriage and the baby!"

"Thank you Ophelia," I tell her with a small smile. My eyes drift over to the couch my father has just left, and the maid hurriedly picking the pastries off of the carpet even as she stares at us.

"Is there anything wrong, Lucette?" my father asks me. Of course he wonders why I dropped in unexpectedly.

I shake my head. "I had a question for you about something, but it is nothing emergent. And Waltz has been expressing an interest in meeting everyone."

Ophelia's smile grows even brighter, and she leads Waltz to the couch. I am certain that she has a lot of questions she wants to ask him. He takes to this not only with some amount of grace, but a little nervous eagerness as well. I know that he has wanted a family for a long time, and our marriage has given him one. He knows that the progress he makes will merely be erased, but he also knows that there is no reason not to enjoy what can be had right now.

My father looks down at the maid that has just finished picking up the pastries. "Please tell Rod and Emelaigne that their sister and her husband have come for a visit, and that they are welcome to participate," he tells her.

The maid curtsies, still holding the plate she upset. "Yes, Your Majesty," she says before leaving.

After the maid has left, and my father notes that Ophelia and Waltz are deep in conversation, he turns to me. "Are you really alright, Lucette?"

"I am alright," I tell my father as I take a chair at the card table where he immediately joins me. "I was a little nauseous earlier today, but I should be expecting that."

My father sighs. "That is…I mean, how are you handling things emotionally?"

"I will not pretend that it was…is…not a lot to deal with all at once," I admit. "But I think I am coping. I was getting bored, staying in my room all the time except for meals and lessons anyway."

I think I hear something that almost sounds like a soft chortle from my father, but his features remain serious. "So," he notes, "instead of sitting in your room, you now take magic lessons, try to build a relationship with a new husband, repair a damaged Tenebrarum that I can only assume Hildyr was responsible for endangering, and carry your own child? Lucette…surely you can see why I am concerned."

 _And he doesn't know the half of it…._ "I did not say that you did not have reason to be," I tell him. "But Waltz is very supportive, and that helps immeasurably."

"And your relationship with him?" my father asks.

"I will not deny that there has been some…awkwardness…" I admit, "but we are working through that. I would rather have it expressed than repressed, only to rear its head as something worse later."

My father frowns slightly. "Has he asked you for anything?"

"Just a family of his own," I tell him. "He misses not having one, since Mother killed his parents when he was ten. He loves children, and I would be happy to give him more than the one we have on the way if possible."

A muscle in my father's cheek twinges when I mention that Mother killed Waltz's family, and something that looks like guilt passes behind his eyes as I explain the rest of it. In spite of what Waltz has already done for everyone, my father still had a nagging doubt that Waltz might crave power of his own…only to be told that what my husband really craves are children of his own to love. "I…know that it was not only humans and fairies that suffered at her hand. It just did not seem…personal until now."

Of course it would seem more personal to him now; even if it was prompted by necessity, Waltz is his son-in-law. Hildyr killed his daughter's in-laws. "If Mother was the only witch you ever knew well until now, I can see where it wouldn't," I note.

"The witch that walked us back…Delora…mentioned that Hildyr had killed her daughter," he notes.

"That's true," I tell him. "It is why Parfait considers her incorruptible. Not even the loss of her only child turned her. If my understanding is correct, her husband had died at some point before that, so her daughter's death essentially left her alone."

My father frowns. "On the way back I asked her if she was a parent, and how she would have felt in my position if she was. I was feeling rather…defensive…at the time. I did not expect her to tell me that she would give anything to be in my position, or the reason why this was so. I almost felt as if I had been slapped…and that I deserved it."

"Delora is very blunt, but personally I find trait one of her charms. One thing that I have learned is to never assume that you are the only one that suffers," I tell my father.

"That…is truth," he tells me, and then looks at me oddly for a moment before his expression settles once more. "You…want to make your husband happy by giving him more children than only the one you actually need?"

I blink. "Well, yes. It is not as if there is not room in the palace for more than one."

"I…am just surprised that you are considering more than your own needs," my father admits, "especially with the amount of stress you must be under right now."

"It is a marriage," I tell my father, "not a business relationship. If I understand it correctly, both the husband and the wife attempt to make the other happy and meet each other's needs. I may as well try to do this properly. And I am happy when he is happy about something; nothing makes me smile as readily as his own smile."

My father actually looks a little impressed. "That…is very good, Lucette. I am quite happy with the progress you have been making." I give my father a small smile in response to the complement before he continues. "You said that you had something to ask me?"

I nod. "I need aid from another Bearer," I tell him. "Waltz and Parfait can only give me so much help. You see…Mother did not exactly give me clear instructions on what I could and could not do with the Tenebrarum before she died. I have found out how to fix it, but I need to ensure it stops cracking."

"And how can I help with this?" my father asks.

"Delora is going to find one of the other Bearers for me, to ask him about helping me, and hopefully he will render me the aid I need," I explain. It is another half-truth, but at least this is all true. "She will have a fairy with her as well that Parfait provides, but I was wanting to send Fritz as well. Sometimes brawn will solve problems more quietly than magic. He would need permission to be elsewhere."

"Is there any other reason you are wanting to send young Fritz away for a time?" my father asks shrewdly.

I sigh. "Yes. Apparently, Fritz admired me. He never mentioned this to me, but it kind of became obvious that he was miserable when he saw me kissing Waltz and…."

"You do not have to explain further," my father tells me. "I knew that something was distressing him. I doubt he would have taken a genuine interest in a book on etiquette."

So, Father had noticed that too. I wonder if he is really more perceptive than I give him credit for at times. He misses Myth and Alcaster plotting against him so often, I have to remind myself that my father is far from obtuse.

My father pauses for a moment before saying, "If you _had_ known earlier, would you have made a different decision?"

"No," I answer simply. "Why, would you have preferred that I had married a human?"

"I…cannot pretend that I am totally comfortable that you married a witch," he admits. "But if you had to have one, at least it is Waltz. I wish that there were more like him."

"There are more than you think, and I intend to make no apologies about being one, myself," I tell him.

"You should not have to apologize for what you are," my father admits. "Just…exercise your power responsibly, and that will be enough for me."

I nod, but still mentally note that he does not mention that it is currently necessary for nearly every other witch in Angielle to publically hide what they are. "That is reasonable. Have you given any thought to allowing me to deal with witches that have been accused of wrongdoing when I am able to do so?" I ask. "At least, once I am powerful and skillful enough that doing so will not endanger me? That is one of the roles of the Bearer, after all."

My father nods slowly. "I will send out a formal notice once Waltz tells me that you are proficient enough to follow through with it. Though…even currently, there has been very little cursing occurring, in the city at least if reports are accurate on the matter."

I nod. "That is what Parfait says, too," I admit. It was something she mentioned over supper today. "Even the corrupted witches appear to be cautious, right now anyway. They know that my power has awakened, know that I married Waltz, and currently judge me as someone to be wary of. I have not specified what kind of cursing I will and will not tolerate, yet." They also might suspect that I did something to Myth, since he basically disappeared without leaving a trace.

"You would allow _some_ cursing?" my father asks, warily.

I sigh. "Not the kind that could cause injury, death, or with conditions that are practically impossible to meet. But on occasion, a witch will curse a human but still have their best interests at heart. An example of this would be so the human could learn a life lesson they would not have been taught otherwise. Or, if a human was attempting to harm the witch or her family, I believe that the witch could defend herself. If some criminal is trying to run her through with a sword, I really do not care if she turns him into a goat. And…I think it would be justice if I cursed some of the worst offenders among the witches; I do not think I should necessarily punish everyone for methods I might use myself."

"If my understanding of the situation is correct, you already cursed 'Mythros' for crimes he committed," My father admits.

"And the impact of that may be that cursing would remain at a low level," I acknowledge, "but I would rather not get deeply into that particular subject at this time." I have not thought up a convenient half-truth for that one, yet. I cannot tell him the entire truth, and I am certain my father would catch me in a lie.

He thinks for a moment on the rest of my previous statement. "Give me a factual example of a good witch cursing a human for the human's benefit."

I shrug, stalling for a moment while I think. I cannot give my own curse as an example. My father might demand to talk to the 'spoiled brat' involved in the curse, and that might complicate things. Fortunately, I know of an alternative. "There is a doctor in town who was given the Rumpelstiltskin curse, and he cannot remember his name, or anything else about himself. He was helping his patients, but refusing compensation from them to the point where his fiancée was running after the cured patients to get coin to pay their own bills. Their relationship began to fracture as he was meeting the needs of others, but never hers, and she ended up sleeping with one of his former patients, which damaged their relationship even further.

"The doctor was asking the Witch Doctor to cure patients that were dying in spite of his own efforts," I continue. "Each time, she asked a higher price for her services, and he still did not ask for the compensation he gave her to be returned to him by the patients she treated. The third time he asked her to treat someone, she said that she would do so in exchange for his memories…for him submitting to a curse. He agreed, and the patient who was actually his ex-fiancée recovered. He is currently staying in the Marchen while he works on his curse. He only has to find three written entries about himself to rediscover his past and reclaim his memories, and I have told him where to start looking."

"And he benefits by this by...?" my father wants to know.

"It is to make him reassess his life, and his priorities," I tell him. "Sometimes, you have to look at something with fresh eyes to properly evaluate it. I have no intention of dispelling his curse the way I dispelled Rod's. The Witch Doctor is not known to be corrupted, and you never know when you might need her services anyway; she's the only Healer Angielle has."

There is a slight frown on my father's face as he looks at me. "I…cannot say that I am comfortable with letting any curse stand. But as you have obviously spoken to the witch involved to get this background information on the matter, and genuinely believe that having this doctor break his own curse will benefit him, I will not attempt to change your mind on the matter. At least you are helping him by giving him further direction in breaking the curse."

I want to ask him why he says nothing about my idea of cursing other witches myself for their punishment, but he has qualms about them cursing humans for their benefit. However, I decide not to pursue the issue further tonight. "But back to the subject of Fritz," I say instead, "that errand is something that is important and needful. And I think a little time and distance from me might do him some good. He just needs permission to be away…and he would appreciate your discretion in this matter."

My father nods, and gets up from the card table and moves to the desk in the adjacent study to pen the document, and I get up from my chair as well to follow him. "I'll have it recorded elsewhere, and tell his father as well…or is Fritz doing that himself?"

I consider the risk of letting Alcaster know that I am getting help from another Bearer, but the party Fritz will be in is easily the largest until they separate into two and go their separate ways once they reach Cedel. It is unlikely that Alcaster would care to intervene…but it could be disastrous if he did so.

"Just tell his father that he is on an errand for me, but be very vague if he asks location or purpose," I ask. "If I had to repair the Tenebrarum over and over again, in theory it could raise my risk for corruption…which is something a corrupted witch would want. I would rather not risk one finding out about it. And Fritz and his father are not on good terms anyway." And at this very moment, Fritz is writing a list of the knights his father frequently had him deliver private communication to. These are the knights most likely to already be prepared to side with Alcaster against their king.

"They are on poor terms?" my father asks, slightly surprised as if he had never noticed a more than professional gulf between the two men. Some amount of distance could be easily explained by the disparity between their ranks, and a professional man in a high position might be especially careful to show everyone else that his son received no favors from him. It would not surprise me if some of the guard thought Fritz's status as my personal knight was a challenge rather than a boon, given my own temperament, so even that was no favor from his father.

"Not exactly _poor_ terms," I try to explain, as I describe what their relationship had been like before Fritz had found out what his father was. "Fritz and his father are on no terms at all. They are more strangers that share a roof than anything else. I think I would have more hope for their relationship if they _were_ on poor terms. At least hate is an emotion that can be actively fought, and provide motivation for wanting something better. I have no idea what to do with indifference."

My father drips wax on the end of the document, and presses his seal in after signing his name. "Indifference gives birth to cruelty sometimes, be it intentional or not," he admits. "I wish that they would have better than indifference between them, but I know that some men live for their careers. It would be easy to suppose that that was what Sir Alcaster decided to live for, once his wife died years ago."

I take the document that my father offers me, and fold it up carefully to put into my pocket. "Thank you," I tell him.

Just then, I hear a sound and turn my head to look out of the study into the parlor area. I find that Rod and Emelaigne are entering the other room. My sister smiles somewhat nervously as she is introduced to Waltz, but I know that this is not their first meeting. Apparently, she and Rod chose to hide what they had done in sneaking out of the palace after dark with no guard for Emelaigne. I guess that Rod probably admitted to going by himself at some point when he delivered my letter concerning Myth to Father.

Waltz plays along without missing a beat, but when my father and Ophelia are looking elsewhere, I meet Rod's eyes and crook an eyebrow at him slightly. He shakes his head at me, and taps a finger in front of his lips as he pretends to rest his chin on a fist. He does not want my father or his mother to know that they had snuck out after hours. I give a ghost of a shrug, and return my attention to the conversation taking place, but not before my brother gives me a slight, but grateful, smile.

….


	37. Goodbye for Now

**Chapter 37. Goodbye for Now**

The next morning starts early because the baby wakes me up. And by that, I mean nausea and vomiting wakes me up. Fortunately, one of the more practical uses of magic involves a simple spell to get rid of bodily fluids in the wrong place, and I watch Waltz carefully knowing I will get additional use of this spell in the coming weeks.

Waltz tells me to remain in bed while he goes to get something to settle my stomach, but after he leaves, I get out of bed on somewhat shaky legs to open the window and I lean my head out to catch a fresh breeze. The spell has done nothing to get rid of the smell of the little that had been in my stomach before waking.

I breathe deeply, leaning on the windowsill while I enjoy the soft breeze and the sound of the birds chirping in the forest before the open window that the sound barrier normally quiets. And then I hear voices, and realize that there is a conversation taking place below me already in progress.

"…I just want you to be careful," Garlan says. "I won't be able to watch your back this time, and I have no idea if we will be able to return before things become dangerous at the end of this cycle."

"I'm always careful," Jurien responds. "And has it occurred to you that you need to be careful as well?"

"Yes…the princess has told me that I've died before," Garlan admits. "She said that I had died trying to tell you that I loved you, once, but I didn't get it out in time that time either. I failed you then, too."

"Garlan, don't…" Jurien tries to say, sounding pained.

"Why not? It's the truth," he responds. "I failed you both then and now. Apparently, sometimes I don't, but I couldn't bring myself to ask her how often I succeed versus how often I fail."

Jurien does not speak for a long moment. "I'm sorry that it turned out this way, this time," she finally answers. "You know that I would still trust you to have my back in a fight, right?"

"I had hoped that I still had your trust, at least, if not your love or friendship," Garlan admits.

"It just hurts that you felt something for me, but not so much so that you were able to tell me," Jurien says.

"The depth of my affection was never the issue," Garlan says so quietly I can barely hear him. "I simply wanted to be beside you so much, I would settle for the role of a friend if that was the only way I could be near you."

"You would have had more than friendship had you _asked_ me!" Jurien says sounding a bit exasperated.

"And we will have better together next time," Garlan promises. "Next time…I won't fail you."

"I hope that you do not, for both of our sakes. I think that I would have liked falling in love with you," Jurien admits before I hear their footsteps diminish, and the door to the Marchen slam as they reenter the inn.

I leave the window open as I return to bed, and lie down under the blankets. It is only minutes before my husband returns with a cup of mint tea, and a few pieces of bread with a little jam smeared on them. The tea and bread to appear to help some, and I am able to dress and go downstairs to spend the final hour with some of my dearest friends before they leave.

"What do you mean that I have to pick a 'pet name?'" I hear Delora say incredulously as I walk down the stairs.

"We need to keep in character when we get there!" Karma declares as I turn the corner to see what is going on. Everyone that was there for the explanation yesterday appears to be finishing breakfast right now. Less than half seem absorbed in their own conversations, while the rest appear to be experiencing some level of amusement as they watch the events unfolding at the table Delora and Karma sit at. "And of course, we will need to practice on the way! Think of it like a play in which we are the cast, but we get to make up whatever lines we want to!" Karma says with a grin. "This will be fun!"

"Must I repeat myself?" Delora says through clenched lips. "Why a 'pet' name?"

"Lovers always have nicknames for each other," Karma insists. "It's a term of endearment, and it would seem odd if we did not have one. If you will not choose one," he threatens with a wide smile, "I will have to choose one for you."

I lean against the wall for a moment, enjoying the morning entertainment as Delora glares at Karma. I am really going to miss this.

"Let me see…" Karma considers. "Were you a lustrous, fresh beauty, I would call you 'my pearl,' but that is too mild for you. Were you as sweet and soft as you are lovely 'honey bun' would be your name, but you are more spice than sugar. Were you bright and fiery even in the darkest depths, still illuminating everything you touch, 'my star' would be…."

"Delora can't have that one," I say from behind Karma, interrupting him before Delora can throttle him. "That's _my_ designation."

"Princess!" Karma tells me with a smile. "Please, join us."

I take a chair at the table with them, and Delora turns to face me. "Exactly how much of this is _absolutely_ necessary?"

"Remaining in character is necessary," I tell her, but Karma grins just a little too much at that. "Just remember…you can pick a 'pet name' for him, too. Fair is fair."

Karma's smile begins to wane a little as Delora begins to eye him like a cat that has just spotted a mouse. "Say Princess…what _did_ you say that he turns into when his curse takes hold?"

"I didn't say," I tell her with a small grin of my own. "I'll give you one hint…it is a biped of some sort."

"Hmmm…" she says, thinking as she looks across the table at Karma.

"Errr…you are not actually going to tell her, are you Princess?" he asks nervously. It occurs to me to wonder if he suspects how I know what he turns into in the first place. It is plausible that he told me of what happened when he had loved the woman with the beautiful smile, or he might think that he fell in love with someone here in Angielle during one of my cycles.

Either way, it does not really matter. I doubt he will ask me if he fell in love with me, considering I am married and he does not really know me that well.

"I said one hint, and I gave one hint," I tell him. "I'm leaving the rest of the mystery up to her." But now Delora looks too predatory. "I agree that pet names might be a good idea, though. How about, 'my rose?' It would fit a thorny beauty, such as Delora."

This perks Karma up, as he considers it. "Yes…yes, being named for a rose might suite her. Both delicate and hardy, both temptingly lovely and sharp…and her eyes are even the same color as the roses that once decorated the trellises next to my bedroom window back home!"

"You don't have to encourage him," Delora grumbles.

I shrug. "Then beat him at his own game. It might be fun. You usually get into fights with Myth or Mother instead, and this should be a little less bloody. I am also sure you will be less bored than you probably were when pretending to be my doll for half a year."

"You make it sound as if I might not prefer a fight to the death against a superior force rather than dealing with _him_ ," Delora says, but she says it weakly enough that I know that she does not mean it.

"Just try to refrain from cursing him until _after_ the mission is complete," I remind her.

"That gives me plenty of time to be…creative," the witch says, narrowing her eyes at the somehow still grinning prince.

"Fortunately," Karma points out, "your creativity shall be short lived as the world resets. Neither of us are going to remember this in six months."

I sigh. "I really will have to ask Regius how things went. Hopefully, he will be able to give me the general picture, if not all the little details."

The party headed north to Brugantia leaves first, with Garlan and Jurien only exchanging regretful nods before those in that group ride away from the inn. While I focus on saying goodbye to those that I know and love, Parfait moves around to bid everyone farewell.

When I am bidding goodbye to the party headed for Cedel, Karma gives me an elegant bow and brushes my knuckles with his lips before mounting his horse, and I give Delora a hug. "I am really going to miss you," I tell her when we part so Parfait can have her turn to hug Delora.

"Miss me as much as you like, but I hope that you don't need me as much as you usually do," Delora tells us both as she hugs Parfait.

"As much fun as I usually have teasing you…well, I'm just going to have to make up for it by teasing Waltz more instead," I say with a smile.

"More?" my husband laughs from behind me. "How is that possible?"

"Never underestimate me," I tell him with a grin.

Waltz is saved from having to respond as Karma rids up next to us. "Are you ready to go and see the world, my lovely rose?" he asks Delora with a grin.

"She didn't say that I couldn't curse you _after_ the mission," Delora points out as she mounts her own horse.

"But that is tomorrow!" Karma declares. "Seize today, my sweet blossom, for we shall have it but just once more if we succeed! Today's today will be unlike any today we have experienced before…right Princess?"

"This today is very different," I admit to him. "You are usually running errands dressed as a woman, instead of riding off to an adventure with a witch and a fairy as companions."

"A definite improvement in fates," Karma decides.

They both ride out to the side of the inn to wait for the rest of their party. Fritz is the last one I see, still on the ground holding the reigns of his own horse. I can think of no words to say to him more poignant than what passed between us yesterday, and instead hug my knight.

"I won't fail you," he promises me when the hug ends.

"I know you will not," I tell him. "I have the utmost confidence in you."

Fritz turns to shake my husband's hand. "Take care of her," he tells him.

"Always," Waltz replies.

Fritz is just about to mount his horse, when I hear, "Wait!" and I turn around to see Emelaigne running down the path to the inn. She does not stop running until she reaches us, clutching herself as if she has a stitch in her side.

"Emelaigne, what…?" I try to ask as my sister gulps air. She is not use to strenuous activity, and I have to wonder if she ran here all the way from the palace. And…is she _alone_? At least it is full daylight this time. And then I notice something else…for the first time since Emelaigne's ball when I was with Rod, I see her in long skirts. It occurs to me to wonder if those skirts were her own choice or not.

"Father said…said that Fritz was leaving…and…" she trails off, still gulping for air. "I didn't know _when_ , and…and I wanted to say 'goodbye.'"

"Princess Emelaigne, I'm flattered…but you needn't have run," Fritz says carefully as he looks at my sister. I can almost hear him thinking about what I told him; that if he wants my sister, she is his for the taking.

"Yes, I needed to run! From the looks of things, you were just about to leave!" she says, looking around, noting that Fritz is the only one with a horse that is not yet mounted on it. "I would not have caught you otherwise."

"Well, consider me caught, Your Highness," Fritz says with a small smile. "But I am afraid that I cannot delay leaving much longer."

"How long will you be gone?" she asks.

Fritz shrugs. "I have no answer for that, Princess. I do not know myself."

Emelaigne nods sadly. "I…see. Will it be…dangerous?" she asks.

"Possibly no more dangerous than staying here," Fritz says carefully. There will be dangers on the road, and Veles himself might be disagreeable…and Fritz knows that there will be dangers here in Angielle in the meantime.

Emelaigne, of course, misunderstands him as I am sure he intended, plainly assuming that he means that he will be going somewhere relatively safe. "Oh, good!" she says, her expression brightening a little. "Well, you have my best wishes for your journey, and my prayers that you will return safe and successful."

"Thank you Princess," Fritz says, giving her a bow while he takes her hand to brush her knuckles with his lips before he turns to mount his horse. "Goodbye Your Highnesses," he says to the three of us before offering a half bow in his saddle before following the others that are starting to ride away from the inn, and he disappears from view as he rounds the corner.

"Goodbye Fritz," my sister says sadly, softly as she clutches the hand that Fritz kissed with the other as if to keep the kiss from escaping, her cheeks a bit pinker than the running would explain.

It is only then that I see Rod running around the bend, calling for his sister, and a look of the utmost relief crosses his face as he sees her standing beside me. He is also clutching his side, and out of breath as he comes to a sudden stop when he reaches us.

 _Those two clearly need more exercise, if they are winded so easily._

…..

The inn seems empty even as Annice and Rumpel prepare to open it for lunch, with Jurien lending a hand. Aside from the three of them, only Parfait, Waltz, and I are left among those that dwelt here. Still, I am a little surprised when Parfait pulls me aside, and leads me to her room. When she opens the door, I recognize the Lucis in all of its beautiful glory, even though I can clearly see the flaws as light scatters through it.

"It does not appear anywhere nearly as bad as mine," I note, looking at it.

Parfait sighs. "And it has remained in this state for four years, ever since your mother and I fought. As Bearers, we were supposed to balance each other…not conflict. When we forced our Crystallum to battle each other…this is what happened. Your mother used herself to stabilize the Tenebrarum, but it needed it more than the Lucis did as I took less damage than she did that day."

"They were never meant to fight each other," I note, "but when my mother chose corruption, that fight became inevitable…assuming no one was able to kill her in a more mundane fashion."

"Blades or poison will kill any of us, if the wielder gets close enough before we can prevent our body's exposure to either one," Parfait admits. "A few people did try to kill your mother…without success obviously. How she handled them probably prevented more attempted assassinations."

"I do not doubt that," I say, still looking at the Lucis. "I have seen the Lucis in this state before, so what did you want to tell me about it?"

Parfait grimaces. "The way we get into the gate to the god's city is to place our Crystallum into recesses in the gate, and then physically pass through them. Depending on the placement of the fractures…the cracks can be a physical impediment."

"Meaning that you have to repair the Lucis as I must repair the Tenebrarum," I note. "And…you have not been able to do so in four years, but must now be capable of doing so in less than six months." _Something else that can go wrong…. There are so many moving pieces. If I can or cannot find the contract, even if I can…if I can fulfill the original bargain, if any_ one _of the other Bearers refuses to participate, if I can repair the Tenebrarum not once but twice…and now if Parfait can do in one cycle what she has been unable to do in four years!_

"If there were any other Bearers within distance, I would have sent messengers to them as well," Parfait tells me. "But under the circumstances, this is what we have to work with. I thought that I should let you know."

I nod slowly. "It is not good news, but I am glad you are not trying to hide it from me. But even if you do fix it this cycle, it will revert to its previous state during the next cycle. All you really need to accomplish during this cycle is to find a reliable way to fix it."

"Where did that come from?" Parfait asks me softly. "What you said about me, right before your wedding. What made you say it?"

"I…do not know," I admit. "I do know how you react in certain situations, I probably know you better than you think I do, but I have no idea where that came from. It…was almost like I was not even the one talking, even though I knew every word was accurate as I gave it voice."

"You said that I have never forgiven myself," Parfait says. "You said that I feel guilty, depressed, and my fears keep me from close relationships with others."

"And it is true," I note. "Even when Delora died…if you wept, I did not see it. And she was as close to you as anyone. I have read about trouble in some military units as veterans refuse to develop relationships with new recruits, because they do not want the deaths of the recruits to weigh heavily on them as the inexperienced die more often than the experienced. You fought a war yourself…is this one of the residual effects it has on you?"

"…Perhaps," the fairy slowly admits. "But it is more to protect others from pain than myself, I think."

"And it does not help that your dearest friend betrayed all that was good and made herself into your greatest enemy," I note.

"No…it doesn't," she admits.

I think for a minute. "How much," I ask her slowly, "does the fact that I greatly resemble my mother affect you?"

"Princess, I…" she tries to say.

"'Princess' is a formal title I do not wish used between us in informal situations," I tell her. "To you, I am another Bearer…I am your equal. Continue to call me 'Lucette.' Do not distance yourself from me with formality. Now, how much does the fact that I look like my mother affect you? I want you to be forthright, even if you believe that I will interpret your words in a negative fashion."

"I cannot help but think of her when I look at you," Parfait admits. "I know that you are not her…but you did not get all of your traits from your father. I look at you and see my chance for redemption…maybe I _won't_ fail you the way I failed her…and I look at you and know that I failed her, and balance was lost. I know that you would not exist without my failure, so in a way, you are the living proof of it…and I know that in your position as the next queen of Angielle, you may be capable achieving a greater acceptance of witches than there has ever been in this nation if you can win the hearts and minds of your own people. You are my hope just as you are my grief. You are the potential that balance could be restored just as you are the proof that it was lost."

I nod, accepting that. Obviously, the gods have a sense of irony. _I_ am irony. "And you either have to get past that grief and guilt, or else find joy in spite of it, to give me what could be my only chance of success. I might not be able to do this at all if you fail in repairing the Lucis in the next cycle, even if everything else goes well."

Her shoulders slump. "And I have no idea how. I almost wish we could switch Crystallum, and I could use this pain to heal the Tenebrarum while you court your husband and win him again to heal the Lucis."

I raise an eyebrow at her and grin. "If you are suggesting that we fix this problem by marrying you off, I suppose we could go downstairs and ask Rumpel if he is interested in more than flirtation with you..."

Parfait laughs at that before she covers her mouth with her hand, and her large blue eyes roll back to my face, as if to ensure that I really _am_ joking.

But I grin even wider and continue. "I know you aren't really the type he goes for. However, the two of you could spend the rest of your lives helping people together, and neither of you would mind the other disappearing to go help someone or do something noble, because you _both_ do that. And the only thing you would have to remember is not to get pregnant, so the Lucis doesn't shatter on the next round."

"I…I really don't think that I could ever see Rumpel that way," Parfait admits, still smiling for a moment before the smile disappears again. "I don't think I can see anyone that way…not when I am so certain that our time would be brief."

"Then balance really was damaged when you fought," I tell her. "Your physical injuries kept you from emotional pleasures. It's not just that you seek no marital bliss, no child of your own…you have no close friends. Your future was lost and you do not try to enjoy your present, either."

"I don't like the thought of leaving people to grieve me…" Parfait starts, but then I interrupt.

"And I happen to think that you are a wonderful person, and that I would rather be your friend for whatever time you have left than not be your friend at all!" I tell her. "If I mourn you later, so be it. I mourn quite often, anyway. At least you are more than worthy of my tears."

Her eyes drop to the floor. "I…do not know if I can change," she admits.

"Change is actually something I am rather familiar with," I tell her. "Feel free to come to me for advice."

Parfait laughs softly at that. "You know that the Tenebrarum is linked to Chaos, making you more…adaptable…right? And with the Lucis linked to Order, change happens to its Bearers slowly, or only with a great 'stimulus' to do so?"

I can only look at her faintly for a moment. "I…had never considered that…but it does explain a few things." It explains how my behavior could differ so much during some of my cycles. Each time I chose a man…but then found myself adapting to become the sort of person that man might fall in love with. Time I spent with each particular lover only enhanced the effect, and instead of being someone they were merely attracted to during some of the initial cycles, I became someone they had fallen head over heels in love with in the second I spent with them. Had I known this somehow when I chose to commit to Waltz? Had I decided that I liked who I was, when I was with him, the best? I am silent for a moment. "So…where _does_ balance lie?"

"Right were you said that it does," Parfait tells me. "In the beauty and love that can occur in the midst of pain…that would never have occurred without it."

I think about that for a moment. "I think that I really _did_ find balance in the last cycle," I muse. I saved my family through pain, my beloved was saved through Fritz's sacrifice of his own desires for me, I had saved my kingdom causing justice to triumph through deceit. And after all of that, it led to the events that allowed my son to be conceived. "And it led directly to the events of this unique cycle…it _caused_ this cycle!"

"Which is why I think there is still a chance for me to do as I need to," Parfait admits. "Your son was meant to be here, and you were meant to be able to use magic. If you can do your part, I will try my very best to do mine."

…


	38. Changes

**Chapter 38. Changes**

With the most immediate necessary actions accomplished, I turn my attention to other things. Waltz mentions that Ophelia tactfully told him that that the palace tailor needed to measure him for new clothes, and I need to place an order with the seamstress anyway, so we go to the palace after lunch one day. There are arrangements to be made for Waltz to appear the proper part, now that he is a prince.

I open a portal to my old room and step through with Waltz. He looks around my room for a moment, almost wistful. I look around and think that I need to have my dolls packed away, and the shelf they currently grace moved. It is not impossible that I might spend some nights in the palace, and I do not want to wake up only to see the doll shelf. I have done entirely too much of that.

"We use to use that as a stage for the puppets," Waltz says, pointing to a low bookshelf backed against the wall. "Though…I do not recognize that couch," he admits, gesturing to the couch near the far wall.

 _Which is probably why did not hesitate to burn it when I told him to do something destructive when he entered. It is how I was able to make it look like Waltz had killed Varg._ I nod. "It is a fairly recent addition."

Waltz frowns for a moment. "We did not spend our wedding night in this room. You said that Fritz killed Myth in here while we were fighting."

"Yes," I admit. "The room was covered in ashes, blood, and dust when we left it."

He smiles at me for a moment. "I remembering you describing the scene as 'disarray' when telling me of your intentions for the rest of the night. No one I know can understate something like you. I think I would hate to see what you consider an actual 'mess.'"

I nod at that. "Under the circumstances, I thought that we both would prefer spending our wedding night…elsewhere. I have heard of dancing on the graves of your enemies, but making love on their dust…."

"Very macabre," my husband notes. "That…actually half sounds like something Myth might have wanted to do."

I shiver, and once again send Fritz a silent thanks in my heart. "At any rate," I say, purposefully changing the subject, "I will have to order the dolls packed and the shelving moved."

"I suppose," Waltz considers, "you would not want to wake here, and see them. You would be afraid for a moment that the cycle had restarted before it was safe."

"Yes," I admit. "Is there anything here you want to take back to the Marchen with us?"

"Not that I can think of," he says. "Is there anything you want here?"

 _Just you._ "Come on," I tell him. "We need to go get you new clothes before someone makes an embarrassing mistake and assumes that you are not supposed to be in the palace." Waltz is not dressed as a noble, servant, clerk, or soldier and petitioners are kept to certain areas of the palace. He will stick out like a sore thumb until he is dressed properly for his station.

Waltz smiles at me, offering me his arm. "As if anyone will mistake me for anything but your husband with you on my arm."

I give a quiet laugh, and take it. "Especially if I am smiling at you. You know…the servants are probably going to love you. You will undoubtedly be given the credit for my new sunny disposition."

He raises an eyebrow. "Some of them may recognize me from when I lived here before. I think I was considered…melancholy…but not particularly dangerous. Since they know that I am a witch, would they be concerned that I may have put a spell on you?"

"Even if they believed that," I say, "I doubt you would be able to find a single one that would care if it meant that they could stop walking on eggshells around me."

Instead of verbally responding to that, he leads me to the door and opens it. "Shall we?"

"We shall," I say with a smile.

I have to give him a few directions, but we arrive at the room the royal tailor and seamstress use in short order. On the way there, servants and even soldiers gape at us, though we pass no nobles on the way. When we reach our destination, we let ourselves in.

We find both the tailor, a thin balding man, and the seamstress, a plump middle aged woman, working on what I recognize as one of Emelaigne's dresses that they have up on a mannequin. Most of my sister's wardrobe hangs on the rack behind them, along with a few of my own dresses.

 _Of course. They are adding length to our existing dresses, and they were done with most of mine before they started adding length to Emelaigne's. I wonder if Emelaigne was put into long skirts because_ I _married…._

"Your Highness…Your Highnesses?" the seamstress says, getting up to curtsey while the tailor bows. The last time I had seen this woman, I had been directing her to make me a wedding dress I could run in.

"Yes, this is my husband, and he needs to be measured for a new wardrobe," I tell them.

"Of course Your Highness," the tailor says, producing a length of measuring tape from seemingly nowhere. "We have been eagerly anticipating your arrival. If you will kindly step behind the curtain, and allow me to obtain your measurements?"

I let go of Waltz's arm regretfully, and my husband goes behind the curtain indicated with the tailor following him. Soon, a conversation picks up, and I gather that the tailor is the father of one of the children Waltz plays with on a regular basis. Apparently, the young boy had been asking after Waltz when he heard that Waltz had married me. The child had been wondering if Waltz was still going to be able to play if he was a prince now.

"If I may say so, Your Highness," the seamstress says from behind me, "we have indeed been quite keen on seeing your husband. We had expected him earlier…."

"Clothes did not seem an immediate concern directly after the wedding…err…" I trail off, realizing how that sounds.

The seamstress looks like she is trying _very_ hard to maintain a dignified expression. "Not to worry about that, Princess. I was a newlywed once, myself, if I may be so bold as to say it." She pauses, looking at me for a moment, before continuing. "Normally, I would not consider this any of my business Your Highness, but as I am tasked with ensuring you have a fitting wardrobe…. Well, there are rumors that you are expecting…one of them a little crazy…and if you really are, I should get started on making you appropriate clothing…."

I blink and realize that the maid that dropped the pastries on the floor when Waltz and I appeared in my father's parlor had heard Ophelia congratulate me on both my marriage and pregnancy. Given how readily maids gossip, the entire palace knows, and the news has spread into the city. She has probably told the story at least a hundred times by now.

"Yes," I confirm. "I will be needing maternity wear eventually. A fairy friend found out that I was expecting a son before I even suspected that I was pregnant."

"Congratulations Your Highness," the seamstress tells me, and I think she is trying to hide curiosity and surprise now. What fairy would the witch Ice Princess call a friend; I suppose she wonders. "Do you need any alterations to your clothing at the present? Your bodice will probably become too tight for comfort long before it is necessary to raise the waistline of your dresses."

Now that she mentions it, I did have to loosen the lacings near my chest this morning. I go through my choices with her, and she looks at me oddly when I specify that I would like two dresses appropriate to the middle class when I make my selections. "I will not be spending all of my time in the palace," I tell her. "Sometimes, my husband likes to put on an illusion so no one recognizes him, and goes on walks in the city." And it does not really matter what I wear around the Marchen.

"And you wish to accompany him, Princess?" the seamstress asks, surprised. "If you so desire…."

I think about what else the seamstress said. "What crazy rumor concerning my pregnancy is spreading?" I ask, hoping that it is nothing troublesome.

"Well," the seamstress tries to sidestep, possibly worried for the fate of the maid in question. "You know what gossips maids are Princess, and some of them will say practically anything for an audience."

"Like maybe that Waltz and I appeared in a flash of light, out of nowhere, into my father's parlor?" I ask.

"Yes," the seamstress confesses as if worried that I already know. She is nervous enough to tell me only the truth, for fear of the loss of her own position should she contradict what I already appear to know. "And that you were smil…" she pauses, incredulous, as another possibility occurs to her. "You mean…she was _not_ making that up, Your Highness?"

"That was true," I admit. "My husband had just taught me that spell. I can now disappear in one place, and reappear in another at will." Which I am sure the servants will not particularly find comforting, if they know I might suddenly appear anywhere at any time. "Comparatively few witches are capable of it. And I realize that most maids gossip worse than fishwives, but if she said nothing else apparently she did not decide to embellish the truth."

"As you say, Your Highness," she says quietly. "Then…then you intend to do nothing to that maid?"

I shrug. "Why would I? Apparently, she was only entertaining herself and others with the truth. Had she been lying about something, that might be a cause for concern, but I have not heard that that was the case. And I care not if the whole palace knows that my husband and I are expecting our first child. It will become obvious soon enough."

"That…that is very generous of you, Princess," the seamstress says quietly.

And I get a bitter taste in my mouth. To them, my getting Annice fired was not so long ago. I was so dreaded by the staff, that this woman feared that I would demand the maid in question fired for spreading rumors…or perhaps worse. She knows that I am a witch now.

"Do you need my bust measurement today, or are you simply going to make me a few adjustable things?" I ask her, and the seamstress starts, coming to herself once more to tend to her duties.

It is not much longer before the tailor appears to be done with my husband. Apparently, instead of merely measuring him, the tailor had found Waltz something that had come close to fitting him, quickly altered it for length in the pant leg, and had put him in it before letting him out from behind the curtain. Now, Waltz is wearing dark pants, a snowy white silk shirt, and a fine forest green coat with silver embellishments. Personally, I find the ensemble rather attractive, and after all, it would be unseemly to allow a prince of Angielle out of the tailor's custody wearing the clothing of a commoner. The only thing Waltz retains, aside from possibly his smallclothes, is his boots…and the tailor is recommending that Waltz visit the cordwainer for new boots next.

"Fine, fine…we'll go there next…but no bows," he tells the tailor, holding his old shirt and pants as if he thinks they might 'disappear' if he puts them down.

The tailor's eyes wander to the old clothing Waltz still holds. "Of course, Your Highness. Bows; while they might be in fashion and worn by Prince Rod, they are not mandatory in any way."

I can't help but chuckle. "Let him keep the old things," I tell the tailor. "He said something about teaching me a spell that might cause a muddy mess if I do it wrong."

The tailor blinks, surprised. "Of course, Your Highness," he says before listing the rest of the choices Waltz has for his wardrobe, now ignoring the old clothing. The tailor would not want mud on one of his own creations, after all.

I help Waltz sort his choices, and when his selections are made, I make a quick portal to send the old clothes back to our room in the Marchen so he does not have to carry them around the palace. We do visit the cordwainer next, but it takes much less time for Waltz to have his feet measured. He is told that his new boots will be ready in about a week, and we walk back out into the hallway.

"Anything else?" he asks me.

"You might want to set up a time for tutoring sessions," I tell him, feeling a little tired. "You need to cover basic protocol, if nothing else. It's not impossible that you might have to attend some formal events."

He looks down at me, obviously hearing the fatigue in my voice. "Are you alright, Lucette?" he asks.

I give him a small smile. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"Perhaps," he considers, "I should set up the tutoring sessions during a time you might want to take a nap every day."

"That…might be a good idea," I admit. We go to the large study where lessons are conducted next. For once, both Rod and Emelaigne are present with their tutors. They do not notice us at first, as I quietly tell my own tutor that I will be giving my own priority to my magical education for a time, but my husband will still need his services for matters of protocol while I am not requiring him myself.

The tutor nods, apparently satisfied that his services will still be required even if my own education is being put on hold for other matters right now. "Only a few hours each day, Your Highness?" he asks Waltz. "There is a good deal to learn…."

"I am a very fast learner," Waltz says, trying to placate the man.

 _Waltz would have to be an excellent student, for Mother to have put as much effort into him as she had._

"Waltz? Lucette?" Emelaigne finally says, turning around in her chair, excusing herself from the desk to greet us. Rod also now notices us, and does the same.

"It is good to see you," Waltz tells them. "I'm going to be taking lessons of my own during the early afternoons, and it will be nice to see a familiar face."

"Really?" Emelaigne says, sounding excited.

"Protocol lessons first, I assume," Rod states.

Waltz nods, and gives them a small grin. "Yes. Your sister tells me that I must learn things "like how to dance, which fork to use for dessert, and that it is not permissible to turn even disagreeable foreign ministers into frogs.""

Rod looks like he is trying not to crack a smile at that, but Emelaigne actually laughs. "Lucette," she asks, "did you really say that? Was…was that a _joke_?"

"Well yes," I admit, a little tongue-in-cheek. "It was a joke. I was already certain Waltz knew better than to try that."

And now the tutors are eying me as if they are unsure if they believe their ears. Emelaigne, of course, does not notice this. "I know, Waltz!" she says excitedly. "We could take protocol lessons together! I really am not that fond of them, but I think I could pay attention better if there was someone else learning with me."

Behind her, Rod is giving my husband a pleading look, plainly asking him to agree to this.

"Well," Waltz says, "my current plan is to take them after lunch while your sister is resting. Would you be available at this time?"

"I could be!" Emelaigne says happily, and Rod and the tutors appear to sigh in relief. At the very least, this means that Emelaigne will show up for her tutoring sessions. "And don't worry about catching up with me! I'm sure we'll be at the same level in no time at all!"

From behind her, Rod mouths, "It will take about fifteen minutes."

And I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Emelaigne really neglects her protocol lessons unless she is forced to face them. Without a ball for her being necessary at this time, it is not as much of an issue. She may be old enough to court now, but with me as the heir apparent and married with my own child on the way, the issue of succession for the throne is not a noticeable problem. In fact, if she _were_ given a ball, everyone would wonder if there was a reason my father thought I might not survive to take the throne…and we are keeping the danger I am actually in private.

When we leave the room, there is actually only one other thing to do before heading home. We head into the secret passages using a doorway activated by magic instead of a key, and go down to my mother's laboratory where the very first thing Waltz does is remove Myth—still in his statue form—to a side room where he closes the door on him as Myth frantically tries to promise us anything we want to free him.

The only thing, aside from the Tenebrarum, I really take note of is the cot that I rest on while Waltz makes his observations. I only mean to close my eyes for a moment, but I wake to Waltz gently shaking me.

"It's still holding," he tells me after I open my eyes.

"Still holding?" I ask yawning.

My husband nods. "Your mother had every magical protection she knew around this room…including one that would hide her own magical output when she performed spells in here. You can use however much magic you want in here, and no one will notice at all. Parfait will not have to use her own power to hide yours when you work on repairing the Tenebrarum, or when I am teaching you more powerful spells."

"That is good…actually, that is wonderful," I admit, sitting up. "She already has a lot on her plate. I do not want to have to add more to it."

"I am sure she will be very relieved," Waltz says, taking my hand to help me stand. "Probably nearly as relieved as I will be to get out of the prince clothes."

"Are they uncomfortable?" I ask, allowing him to help me to my feet. "I am sure the tailor would be happy to make alterations. And you do look very good in them, if I may say so, myself."

Waltz gives me a little bit of a grin. "I will not stop you from saying so."

"Well then," I tell him, "you look quite dashing…very handsome indeed."

"Thank you," he tells me. "And I suppose less out of place in a palace with a beautiful creature such as yourself on my arm?"

"I do not think that either of us are ever out of place when we are together," I tell him simply, and this prompts a broad smile from him.

"I am glad that _you_ think so," my husband tells me. "We were getting some pretty confused looks on the way to the tailor's."

I look up at him for a moment, thinking. "What do you need from me?" I ask him

Waltz blinks, still holding my hand. "I…am not sure exactly what you mean, Lucette."

"You are making so many changes for me…because of our marriage," I tell him. "I want to know how I can make it up to you. I want to know what you want from me, as your wife, to make you happy."

He is quite for a long moment. "I…I want you to be genuine with me, I want to be the pillar you lean on. I need you to need me, Lucette."

"I do not imagine for one second that I could do any of this without you, Waltz," I tell him.

"With everyone else contacting the Bearers you need? With you having to fix the Tenebrarum yourself?" he asks. "Aside from taking the credit and responsibility for the baby and giving you your magic lessons, I'm not sure what else I am doing for you. I…feel as if I should be doing more, somehow. I should be carrying more of your burdens for you…I should be earning the love you already have for me."

"Do you know why I made the storm that night, why I was weeping and barely able to control the power that resulted from it?" I ask him, and Waltz shakes his head slightly. "There were a few other things…I was grieved that the cycle had restarted after a perfect ending, that no matter what happens I cannot escape the pain my mother gives me…but it was mostly because you appeared to have no memory of loving me—marrying me.

"I had gone from being the happiest woman in the world to…" I have to stop, and gather myself a moment before I continue, trying to bleed the extra magic away harmlessly. "We were in love, we had finally gotten married, we had just shared _everything_ with each other…and all of a sudden, I was back to being merely your childhood friend again. I knew that it was no fault of yours that you did not remember loving me, but that did not make the pain any less. Do you not know how desperately I need you Waltz?"

His eyes are wide as he looks at me. "I…think that I am beginning to find out," he admits to me quietly.

I nod. "I hope so," I tell my husband. "Now…after a confession like that, you have your choice of kissing me until I am incapable of thinking straight, making your own confession, or simply taking me to that cot over there and ravishing me. I am good with any of those options."

Waltz laughs. "Every time I think I know why I fell in love with you and married you, you just add another reason to the list," he tells me, smiling, before performing the first of the options I gave him.

My mind stays cognizant just long enough to realize disappointment that he did not choose the second or third option…well, I suppose that that was something of a confession. But I remind myself to be patient. It is only three weeks into this cycle, yet.

It will come.

….

I settle into my new routine. Instead of sweeping the floor of the Marchen, running errands for Parfait, and trying to break my curse I have other activities. After breakfast, Waltz and I practice magic in the clearing outside. We have lunch, then I nap while he goes to the palace for his own lessons. Sometimes, he goes into town with my siblings during this time, and plays with his young friends. The children sometimes ask why I am not with him, not knowing the shadow my mother casts on my own reputation. He tells them that being pregnant makes me tired, but I will come some other time when I am feeling better. When I wake up, if Waltz is not back yet I have tea with Parfait who keeps me updated on what we do and do not know to be happening. My husband and I take tea with Ophelia and Father in the palace a night or two a week when Waltz decides that I am not in a condition to do anything more strenuous. Sometimes Emelaigne and Rod come as well, and I know that Waltz is enjoying getting to know my family. I cannot deny that I enjoy those evenings, as spending time with my family in that kind of a relaxed atmosphere is a new experience for me.

Rumpel, having regained some medical knowledge through his efforts to break his own curse, has declared himself my personal physician. He puts me on smaller meals with snacks in between, and gives me mint or ginger tea. This helps with the nausea enough so I can continue with the rest of my daily life.

Upon Waltz's suggestion, Parfait tells her patrons that I am only able to dispel a few curses every so often, so I am not expected to do a lot at once and risk destabilizing the Tenebrarum further. She is vague about the reason why this is so, but I think that most of them suspect that something else is going on. They know how much Parfait relies on Delora, and for there to be a task so important that Delora had to be sent away and does not appear in the Marchen even on occasion…obviously something serious is wrong.

I give priority to the 'darkest' curses I see at any given time. These are the ones that are most injurious, or sometimes the ones with time limits or practically impossible resolutions. The patrons realize soon that I can correctly judge the severity of the curses, and do not outwardly show displeasure that I only get rid of one every four or five days. They know that, given enough time, I will eventually get to most of them.

I am learning more, by observing the cursed with my second sight, about the curses and I am able to give some of them more specific direction in ridding themselves of their curses on their own. Not every witch bothers to explain how to break the curses she casts, and even this much helps the cursed learn to solve their own problems. The looks of distaste and loathing from Parfait's cliental disappear, only to be replaced by cautious optimism.

I go to my mother's laboratory nearly every evening after eating supper with Waltz, at which point my real works begins, before I can retire for the night.

I start to work to repair the Tenebrarum.

The laboratory itself contains not only my mother's alchemy equipment, but rare magical books, several rugs that keep the floor from becoming too uncomfortable to stand on for long periods of time, and a few pieces of furniture as well. There is a small table and a comfortable chair meant for her use while she studied her texts, as well as a somewhat narrow cot meant for napping. At any rate, I am certain that I will have need of the cot as easily as I tire these days. Sometimes I have to rest a little during my repair sessions.

Every evening Waltz and I come here, stepping through a portal that I open, and the Tenebrarum fills my vision as I allow negative emotion to fill my heart and mind even as I funnel the resulting magical energy off into a harmless spell. I use grief most often, dwelling on everything that has made me weep in cycles past. It is the easiest of my choices to take up, as well as the one Waltz can get me to abandon the fastest once he judges that I have done enough for the day as the Crystallum uses my grief to repair itself.

I weep while mentally holding those I love in my arms as they die…Delora, Parfait, Father, my lovers…and all the rest that lost their lives at one time or another while I helplessly watched them die. The light fades from their eyes…there is blood everywhere…there is dust.

And there is Waltz, who gently brings me back into the present, who reminds me that I have another chance…that those deaths have not occurred this time, and may not next time either. He kisses away my tears, and the pain in my heart surrenders to his warmth. He whispers of the future we can make together; games with our children inside the palace on cold winter days, picnics in the gardens during the summer…a little redheaded girl of our own that follows her older brother around on chubby toddler legs.

I am certain that he hates that these sessions are necessary; he hates seeing me in pain like this. One day, I take a quick nap on the cot, and wake to see him sitting beside me. I can feel him using his own magic, and today it feels like a caress. "What are you doing?" I ask softly, curiously, as my eyes open.

His hand pauses, and rests against my abdomen. "Just…I'm just looking at him. I needed to remind myself what you are doing this for."

"What _we_ are doing this for," I remind my husband as my eyes leave my still flat abdomen where his hand rests to find his eyes. "He will be more than worth it."

Waltz smiles at me. "He shines as brightly as you do, my lovely star."

"I love you, you know," I tell my husband as I start to sit up, "and we _can_ do this."

Waltz stands up, and offers me a hand to rise myself. I take it, and find myself drawn into a hug. "I've always wanted children. I keep thinking about how wonderful it will be to spend time with him assuming we get to keep him, but I…just wish this wasn't so hard on you."

I shrug. "I've heard that pregnancy involved labor pains, but this does strike me as starting a little early." I pause, and then look up at him. "I couldn't do this without you, Waltz."

"Without me, you wouldn't have to," he almost sighs.

"Yes Waltz," I tell him dryly. "Without you, Mother might still be ruling Angielle, and she might have turned me into a copy of her by now."

He stiffens for a moment before he grimaces. "You're right of course…nothing would be worse than that."

I look up at him for a moment. "Waltz," I ask slowly, "you are not feeling guilty for bringing this baby about…are you?"

"Well," he considers, "a little. Yes. You would not be in so much danger if you were not pregnant, and there is no reason we could not have children later once the cycling ends…when it would be safe for both you and them. I know that you needed me to marry you under the circumstances of your promise, but no more than having the wedding ceremony was necessary for that."

"You did nothing wrong," I tell him. "If anything, the blame would be mine for not thinking clearly and realizing the possible consequences. I had not told you about the cycling yet, so you had no way whatsoever to know what might happen. Time starting over again is not _exactly_ a common concern for most people. And if you remember, _I_ am the one that invited _you_ to bed." Waltz is silent for a moment, and I continue. "I do not blame you for wanting me like I want you, or for loving me…so please do not blame yourself."

"I…will try not to," he says after a moment. "I just want so much better for both you, and our child."

'"Better' can still be had…will be had," I remind him. "It is just going to take a lot of work."

My husband shakes his head at me. "If this is your definition of 'work,' I'm not sure that I want to know what your definition of 'suffering' is."

"It is probably what everyone else describes as 'catastrophe,'" I admit.

I have repressed my emotions for years, fearing the vulnerability of others seeing how I really feel. The easier others know what I am feeling, the easier they can manipulate those feelings…the easier they can manipulate me. I must not show weakness…this is one of my mother's few lessons that I decided to retain. At least…I only show weakness before those I trust, and I trust my husband unequivocally. I allow him to see where I am bleeding, because he is the one that binds my wounds. There is no part of me that I do not allow him to see, and now I must give my every fear and tear full expression.

I do not always use grief during these sessions. Occasionally, I use rage. The target of my fury is usually my mother. I throw the pillow from the cot at the shrine Myth set up, scream at her until my throat is raw, and begin to weep again when my throat is too sore to shout. And Waltz is there, once again, holding me as I cry.

"How could she do this to me?" I ask no one in particular, my face in my husband's shirt, my arms wrapped around him with my fingers so tight they dig into his skin even through his clothes. "Mothers are supposed to love their children…but she deliberately gave me pain to attempt to justify herself. Did I mean so little to her? Was I ever anything _but_ a tool to her?"

"I'm sorry Lucette," he tells me. "I…don't know what to say."

Still, he is here, and he remains beside me. That is enough to calm me, and my tears finally start to fade. "But if she hadn't…I wouldn't have you," I sigh, and then look up at my husband. "You weren't my first choice Waltz, or even the third…I thought you a real child and did not remember you at all for the longest time," I confess to him. "But then I found out that you weren't a child…and memories of you started coming back. Once I remembered, once I got to know you all over again…my heart could make no other choice." His eyes grow wider as he looks down at me. "Waltz…you make it worth it; you make all of this worth it. I would rather face the storm with you than the quiet alone—or even with anyone else," I tell him.

And I see something I have not seen in his eyes since the last cycle for a moment before he picks me up off of my feet, and kisses me. And this kiss is passionate. He is not kissing me because he feels obligated to, because he wants to comfort me…he means this kiss with every fiber of his being. He wants this kiss himself as much as he wants to share it with me.

And that look of gentle love is returning to his eyes. Nothing could make me happier.

…

 _Author's note: To Aurora and HoneyBear, and I do not know why Cinderella Phenomenon is not more popular, either. And I am trying to flesh out the characters in the original game a bit, but still keep their personalities the same. I do know that we will be going far afield from cannon, given that there are no other Bearers in game, for example. I do intend to finish the story, but it might take me a while to finish writing it. Thank you for the lovely reviews, I really enjoy getting them. I do answer the ones I get from people with accounts directly (including answering questions that will not give away too much of the plot), but I know that not everyone wants to make an account. Bookmarking and checking for updates every couple of days works as well. I do post new chapters fairly regularly…if it is not a test week, anyway. Happy reading!_


	39. An Admission of Guilt

**Chapter 39. An Admission of Guilt**

"Either lemon or milk, but not both or else the lemon will spoil the milk," I tell my sister as we sit in the garden at a small table. It is sunny today, but we sit in the shade of one of the garden hedges, finally having that tea party I promised my sister in the last cycle. Still, we are visible from the room my husband is taking his own tutoring session in right now. He has now outpaced her so far in a matter of weeks, that it is now impractical for them to share the protocol lessons. Emelaigne expressed some dismay at this, but when Waltz admitted to her that he was used to absorbing information correctly and quickly in order to avoid suffering the effects of Hildyr's displeasure, she had not said another word about it. She knows that there is no comparison between the tutor she considers 'intimidating' and Hildyr herself, and is perhaps a bit embarrassed that she considers her slightly stern tutor difficult to learn from when Waltz was able to study under circumstances that were much harsher.

Still, from a conversation with her tutor, I learned that Emelaigne had made a good amount of progress during her weeks taking lessons with Waltz. She is now considered unlikely to be an embarrassment at social functions, if not necessarily the belle of the ball.

I was not feeling tired today, for once, and I volunteered to take tea with my sister in lieu of her protocol lesson this afternoon. Emelaigne had appeared eager at the idea, though I can tell that something is bothering her.

Emelaigne appears slightly uneasy, alone with me for perhaps the first time this cycle. There is only one maid standing near the palace walls, out of earshot but close enough that she could see either of us motion her to attend us. "And if you wish milk, put it in the cup first before the tea, or the glaze on the teacup might crack."

Emelaigne nods. "You ordered mint…I do not need any milk. Just sugar, perhaps," she says, adding some after she has poured her tea. She stirs the sugar in with what might be excessive care, as if she is new enough at this to be painfully aware that she should not make any noise when stirring, but manages not to clink the spoon against the teacup. And I see what her tutor means. She performs the correct actions now, but there is a stiffness to them that reveals that she is not yet comfortable in formal settings. "We…have never taken tea together…alone, I mean. Do you especially like mint? It's the only thing Mother orders when you are here."

"At the moment," I tell her, "practically anything else goes right through me. And mint helps settle my stomach. I do drink a little ginger when it's feeling especially poor."

"Oh," my sister says. "I guess that being pregnant isn't especially comfortable."

"It is sharing your body with another person, though a small one," I tell her with a wry smile as I add sugar to my own tea, barely noticing that my own elegance in doing so far outpaces my sister's careful observances of manners. "It is like nothing else."

"I…wouldn't think that it would be," Emelaigne admits. "You have gone through a lot of changes, all at once."

I glance deliberately at my sister's skirts that now reach to her ankles. "You have not been entirely unaffected, yourself," I say before sipping at my tea. This is really the first opportunity I have had to ask her about them.

My sister grimaces. "Mother though that with you married…it would seem odd if I were not in long skirts, especially with you younger than I."

And Ophelia was correct in that. A family might be thought conservative by not allowing their daughters long skirts until they were older, but to give them to a younger sister and not an older would be as good as saying that the older sister was defective or immature in some way. If nothing else, it would make the older sister a less than desirable bride when she _was_ allowed long skirts. In fact, the only genteel reason for doing so would be if an undesirable potential suitor was sniffing around the older daughter, and keeping her in short skirts was the only way to keep them from eloping. The couple could still marry if they were both of legal age, but she could be striped of inheritance rights and several other privileges as well if she married in short skirts, as could her new husband for doing so. In a society where businesses and trades are passed down along generations, this is a significant deterrent against eloping in such a manner. It would be easier in the long run to wait a few years for the long skirts, by which point the 'undesirable suitor' would have typically either proven himself, or else given up and moved along to an easier target.

Technically, all of my lovers knew that I was still in short skirts during our relationships. However, under my circumstances, it was impractical to ask my father to put me in long skirts or for permission to court me considering he had no memory of me. Since I was on my own, I made my own decisions.

Come to think of it, this is probably why I never received a formal proposal until I put myself in long skirts during the last cycle once I had returned to the palace. Perhaps they had all thought, with perhaps the exception of Rod, that they had only to wait until my curse broke when I turned eighteen to formalize what we had together when we were able to get Father's permission to do so. Considering Father had married a baker, they probably thought that my father might agree to let me be with any man able to make me happy regardless of his station. A few months can be a small amount of time when you are in love.

"Why have you not worn them before now?" I ask. "You have legally been of age for perhaps a year now, and some families put their daughters in long skirts as young as sixteen…and on occasion, even at the age of fifteen." Fifteen is considered very young to be in long skirts, but it is not that uncommon in poorer families in which the girl is just another mouth to feed. On the other end of the spectrum, sometimes if the girl's labor is valued, she might be kept in short skirts longer. During one of my lessons, I remembered reading of a daughter who sued her father for not allowing her long skirts at the age of twenty-two. He was an old jeweler that had been losing his eyesight, and she had actually been doing most of the work for him. They had eventually settled with the daughter gaining the business, the funds attached to it, and the long skirts with the father receiving a comfortable stipend from her for the duration of his life. There was a somewhat tongue-in-cheek notation at the end stating that the young woman received invitations from eight potential suitors on her way out of the courtroom.

Emelaigne shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "I asked not to. I just didn't want to receive suitors yet."

"Meaning," I ask, though I already know, "you are not interested in being courted at all at this time, or that you are interested in someone in specific…like maybe Fritz? I saw the way you were watching him when he rode away."

My sister's cheeks turn pink. "I…um…." Her gaze turns down to the ground. "I think I owe you a thank you…and an apology."

"For what?" I ask her.

"You had to get married," Emelaigne tells me, "and I am grateful that you married Waltz instead of…. When Father came back the evening after the wedding, and sat Mother and I down to explain what had happened, that you had chosen to marry and have a baby right away just in case…." My sister takes a deep breath. "I was afraid for a moment that you had married Fritz. As far as I knew at the time, you had no lover at all and he was your only friend, so I thought…." Her eyes come up from the ground to meet mine. "I'm _so_ sorry Lucette. I've admired Fritz since I laid eyes on him when we moved into the palace. My first thought when Father said that you had married Waltz was that I was happy you had married someone else and I still had a chance with Fritz, instead of being concerned for the position that you were in. That was selfish of me, and I hope that you can forgive me for it."

I give her a soft smile. "I've behaved in an unworthy fashion to you more than once, and I am sorry for that as well. If you can forgive me, I can forgive you."

Emelaigne gives me a relieved smile. "Thank you. I…it's done then. All is forgiven!"

"I don't know that the debts between us were equal since I behaved badly for much longer," I tell her, "but if you say that all is forgiven, I will not argue with you."

"It is," she tells me firmly, and then grins somewhat bashfully. "Actually…the day you left the palace, I went to the toy shop to see a friend of mine. I got you a doll while I was there, hoping to give it to you later since I knew you like dolls, but I wasn't sure if that would still be an appropriate gift under your new circumstances…."

"I am expecting a boy, you know," I tell her with a small grin. "Toy soldiers or a stuffed animal might be more appropriate. But maybe I'll have a girl someday. Save it for then."

"I didn't expect you to be expecting your own child within a week of when I got it," my sister admits. "I did not expect you to have to step into the role of an adult practically overnight." She looks down at her own dress, and gives her new, longer skirts a tug. "I don't know how to be one, myself."

I nod toward the room where my husband is currently taking a protocol lesson. "Your tutor can…."

"I don't mean the etiquette involved," Emelaigne tries to explain. "I mean, what are my responsibilities now? If I am not allowed to remain an adolescent, what am I supposed to be doing?"

"That depends," I tell her. "What kind of a princess do you want to be?"

She blinks at me. "There are varieties?"

I nod. "The heir apparent, myself, needs to learn how to manage the kingdom, but that does not mean that there are no other lesser responsibilities to go around to my siblings. If you wanted to be a queen yourself, you should tell father so he can send notices to other kingdoms that you wish to be courted by a crown prince. I can think of at least three off the top of my head that might make a suitable match…but you want Fritz, or at least to know if he is interested in you or not, correct?"

Emelaigne nods. "I do want Fritz if he wants me…and I don't want to be a queen. I'm really not sure how Mother manages it with the grace she does. And…I don't want to move to another country where I might not see the rest of you very often if at all."

I nod. "You could also marry a nobleman, manage his household and raise children, but once again…Fritz would not fit in that picture. If you _did_ marry Fritz, Father would probably give him a title of some kind, and you could choose to continue to live here in the palace or on one of the other royal estates."

"Do…do you think that Fritz would like that? Being a nobleman, I mean," my sister asks.

"I do not think that he would marry specifically to become one," I tell her, "but he might take to the role with some amount of grace. I would expect him to do nearly as well as Waltz is, in that."

My sister is quiet for a long moment. "How…how long do you expect him to be gone?"

"Months," I tell her. "I'm afraid that I do not have an answer that is more specific."

"I wish…" she shakes her head. "How do you know if a man is interested in you or not?"

"It depends on the man, I believe," I tell her.

"Apparently, _you_ did not have any trouble finding the love of your life," my sister tells me, and it is so very hard to keep a straight face. "You married the first one you kissed."

And I cannot remember the last time it has been this hard to keep from bursting out in laughter. She really has no idea that I got my first kiss from Rod…but then, Rod does not know that either. Still, I am unable to keep myself from coughing on my tea, and I have to put my teacup down as I hold my napkin against my mouth.

"Are you alright?" Emelaigne asks me, concerned.

I give another small cough and clear my throat. "A little tea went down the wrong way."

"Oh, ok," she says, apparently satisfied with that answer, and then she continues. "Lucette…if I may ask, what is it like being married?"

"It is different," I tell her. "You make a lot of changes to adapt to him, and so does he as he adjusts to you, as you learn to live together. It is a thousand little things, as well as some large ones." And Waltz and I have had more serious large things to deal with than most couples…. "I would advise keeping busy while Fritz is away. You cannot set all your hopes and dreams on one man when you have yet to have a serious discussion with him." Especially when Fritz has yet to decide that he might want her.

Emelaigne nods, and shifts slightly in her chair. "Doing what?" she asks.

"There are two other kinds of princesses," I tell her. "First the 'social princess,' who spends her time entertaining and building social and political bonds."

"No thank you," Emelaigne says quietly.

I nod, as I expected that response. Emelaigne would probably consider that role a fate of nightmarish proportions. "And the 'working princess.' This usually involves administrative details, and functioning more or less as an extension of the reigning monarch, checking on things that need attention but are not serious enough to involve the king or queen directly."

"I…think I might be able to do that," Emelaigne admits. "I do have a good head for numbers."

"You would need it," I tell her, and then lean back as I consider the possibility. She will not need only a good head for numbers, but a better understanding of human behavior. She would have to learn that she cannot go around trusting people…she would need my help. I realize that her experience will only be temporary, but maybe it will give me some insight into how I can help her grow later when my other priorities are met. And if my fatigue continues to subside a little, I will have some extra time if I am not napping. "That might be a kind of tutoring session that might do us both some good. I will need to learn some of this anyway so I can better understand my own administrators one day."

Emelaigne smiles. " _We_ could take the lessons together! I mean, I loved taking them with Waltz. He is always so pleasant to be around, but he catches on to things so much more quickly…." Then her smile fades. "But what about…the other 'work' you have to do?"

"Waltz and my doctor both tell me that it would be good for me to forego using magic constantly for at least several hours each day, and I have been resting after lunch," I admit, though what Rumpel is concerned about is my getting sufficient rest. "If I feel well enough to not need a nap, I see no reason that I should not keep myself otherwise occupied during that time." Though Waltz will insist that I take a nap instead if I look too tired.

My sister's smile returns. "Then it's settled!"

I give her a weak smile. "Of course, this is subject to how I am feeling on the days in question. The baby has his own ideas about what I should be doing, sometimes."

….

 _I deal with being pregnant, facing Myth, the challenges of using magic, needing to delay the coup without necessarily stopping it, and having to petition the gods…and_ now _I am nervous?_

I have seen Alcaster several times in the palace, but he is not yet making any overt moves that I can identify. He is still probably working quietly among the knights, trying to sway more to his side, before he tries to take open actions of any kind. I remind myself that, sooner or later, I should probably set up a trustworthy knight in a position of power or influence to slow his progress in that. He never convinces all of them, but the numbers he has to work with would be smaller if the knights had another apparent choice to make supporting Alcaster in the face of 'anything' less attractive.

Perhaps he is being as subtle as he can right now because of Myth's mysterious disappearance. While the rest of the palace may accept that 'Sir Mythros' left his position for personal reasons, I doubt that Alcaster believes this story. He knows that Myth was a witch, and may suspect my hand in his disposal.

He probably is laying low and being a 'good knight' right now just in case Myth blabbed about Alcaster's own plans in an attempt to save himself. He can guess that I would be more likely to watch in him some way, and not take Alcaster's innocence for granted as my father had.

Somehow, I doubt that he will try to make any bold moves until he decides that I remain ignorant of his plans. After all, he would expect me to move against him as soon as possible. He has no reason to believe that delay is _exactly_ what I want.

"It won't be that bad," Emelaigne tries to assure me from her seat next to me in the carriage.

"The last time I was out in public and everyone saw my face, they looked like they hated me," I tell her. "I had no idea what I had done to deserve it. At the time, I only knew that I had just lost my mother, and my father appeared indifferent to me. I felt like I was alone in a town of people that detested me when I had not done anything to them, and was suffering myself." Even with everything else that has happened to me, for some reason that experience still weighs on my memory.

"You are not alone this time," Rod tells me from across the carriage. "And if they cannot tell the difference between you and your mother, that is their problem and not yours."

And I know that he is right in that. I have never really cared much for the opinions of people I really had no contact with. My father's opinion was one thing, but random strangers…. Why _had_ it affected me so, all those years ago?

"It does help that you have been dispelling some curses," Waltz reminds me. "Actually…considering not as many people have been cursed in more than a month and a half, some people might be figuring out that you are responsible for that too."

 _The corrupted witches are likely wondering if I plan to add to my statue collection, and are remaining quiet right now. They will become bolder, eventually, and then I will have to do something about it._ My lessons with Waltz are going well, so I should be more than ready to respond to those situations soon. We have now covered everything he considers 'vital' and have moved on to what he considers 'useful.' "Perhaps," I admit.

My husband smiles at me. "At any rate, I'm sure that the children will not care."

"Perhaps they will not," I say, giving him a small smile, "but I doubt I will be able to play hide-and-seek. The guards will get nervous if they cannot see me." I am the one that they are most responsible for protecting. Of the four of us in the carriage, if they could only save only one of us…it would have to be me as the crown princess that already carries Angielle's next king. So…I have to stay where they can see me. Simply making myself invisible is out of the question, unless in the case of an emergency.

It is not long before the carriage pulls up to its destination, the small toy shop I easily recognize. Somehow, I know before we even enter that only the fact that Waltz knows that time is going to be reset will stop him from purchasing toys for our son.

Leaving the few guards outside, Emelaigne, Rod, Waltz and I enter a small toy shop while I hold onto Waltz's arm. The freckled girl behind the counter brightens at the sound of customers entering the shop. "Hello, how can I help…" is all she can get out before Emelaigne squeals, "Viorica!"

Viorica's smile widens even further. "Emelaigne! I mean, Princess Emelaigne! How good to see you!" The two girls hug.

I see Waltz looking around the small shop, and I squeeze his arm. "Later," I tell him softly. "It will be a better time later."

He starts, and looks down at me. "How do you always seem to know what I am thinking?"

"I simply know you very well," I tell him with a smile.

My husband smiles at me before turning his attention to the scene before him.

Emelaigne is still talking with her friend. "There is no need to be formal, Viorica. I'm still the same as I was." She turns around toward the rest of us. "Oh yes! Rod's come along as well!"

"It's been a while Viorica," Rod says.

"It's good to see you again too, Rod," Viorica answers.

"And," Emelaigne says, "I must introduce you to Her Highness, the Crown Princess Lucette, and her husband Prince Waltz."

Viorica startles and blinks, but does not take a step away from me. She quickly recovers her smile and replies, "My apologies for being so rude, Your Highness. Good afternoon. And Waltz! I mean…Prince Waltz! I don't think I've seen you since your curse was broken!"

"Yes," Waltz admits with a grin. "I'm taller now. And…I really don't care if you just call me 'Waltz.' I use to frequent here often enough for parts for my puppets."

The excited girl continues. "We were all so happy when my niece told us that you had broken your curse! You were always so nice to everyone, and everyone always thought it such a pity that you had been cursed! But then we didn't see you again right away, and I was shocked when I heard about the king's announcement! No one knew that you were a witch, or that you were the reason Hildyr was defeated!"

My husband's cheeks turn slightly pink. "Um…it's not like I defeated her on my own. I pretty much just let the fairies and other good witches in so they could get to her, and then helped as much as I could."

"And congratulations on your marriage to the both of you!" Viorica says, taking me in with her eyes before pausing. "May I ask…did the king _really_ marry you to the first man that could make you smile, Princess?"

 _So_ that's _how he explained our marriage!_ "Waltz was always able to make me smile," I admit. It is not unheard of for a wealthy or powerful man with a frigid daughter to promise the gods he would marry her to the first suitor that could make her smile, and apparently this is what my father said that he had done. "We were actually good friends when I was young, before my mother separated us. And then we found each other again."

The girl actually sighs. "That's _so_ romantic, to discover yourself in love with a childhood friend. It's like happiness was under your nose the whole time, and you only had to reach out and take it!" she says, and my eyes automatically dart over to Rod. I catch a glimpse of pain as it washes over my brother's face before it disappears under his mask again. Apparently, Viorica misses this entirely, because her eyes dart back to my sister to exclaim, "Guess what Emelaigne! Decimond proposed!" The girl smiles broadly, holding up a hand to show a ring containing a good-sized emerald.

My sister smiles broadly back at her. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!"

Waltz and I offer our own congratulations, and Viorica's eyes turn expectantly to Rod. "Yes," Rod says, somehow managing a small smile. "Congratulations Viorica. I hope that you will be very happy."

"Thank you all!" Viorica says excitedly, before her expression turns a little embarrassed. "I'm afraid that, if the rumors are true, I owe you two another congratulations," she tells Waltz and I.

"If it's about that we are expecting a baby, the rumor is true," Waltz tells her.

"Well, congratulations again then!" Viorica says.

It is not long after that that we leave the toyshop. In only minutes, a crowd of the town's children gather around Waltz, and we all go down a side street where we will not be crowded. Indeed, the children seem at ease around me, even though there are some adults looking at me warily. Most of them glance up at my husband, as if to assure themselves that Waltz would not allow me to harm anyone, before going about their business. After all, they have known Waltz for years, and theorize that he would be able to either convince or otherwise stop me from doing anything harmful. I had expected more of them to be looking at me like a live adder near a cradle, but maybe Waltz is right…maybe my dispelling curses _has_ helped my reputation.

I find the children and their innocence to be a balm. As many of the children call me 'Waltz's wife' as they do 'Princess,' I get questions about how I can be pregnant when I don't look like it and I have to explain that the baby is still very tiny, and one small girl with red hair asks me how the baby got into my belly in the first place.

I tell the child to talk to her parents about that one.

Soon, the children leave me as game of hide and seek ensues, and I sit on a long crate beside a wall to watch Waltz as he plays with the children. Emelaigne grins, and joins in much to the guards' dismay and one of them goes to casually lean against the wall near where she is hiding in an empty crate. Rod, however, joins me where I sit. He says nothing, at first.

"It was Viorica, correct?" I simply ask him.

Rod sighs and nods, not speaking, and I do not push him for further conversation. With what she said about it being romantic to fall in love with a childhood friend…he has to be considering that she would have responded favorably to him had he stayed with her instead of panicking and leaving to find help after rescuing her from the water that night.

In public is no place for a conversation of that order anyway, even with the guards standing far enough away that that they can clearly see but not hear us unless we talk loudly, but it is almost a relief when a small blond girl comes up and sits up on the large crate with us. "I lost on purpose," she explains to me, even though I have not asked. "I don't really like hide-and-seek…tag is better…but I still played because Waltz is so nice."

I smile down at her. "Yes, he is very nice."

"Did you break his curse?" she asks, curious. "He told us that a beautiful young lady did. Was that you?"

I am getting the impression that this is a very intelligent child. "I was the one that helped him…. I had what he needed to break his curse, and I gave it to him."

"Was it a kiss?" she asks. "Did he need a kiss from a princess like the frog in the fairytale?"

I chuckle, remembering that I had used him…with his permission…to practice cursing using that exact spell before going after Myth. "No. It was a magical object that he needed."

"Oh," the girl says, thinking for a moment. "Was it a witch object, or a fairy one?"

"Why would it matter?" I ask. "Magic is magic. How you use it is important, but whether someone was born a witch or a fairy is not."

The girl nods slowly. "I remember that Waltz had some good witches in his puppet shows, and evil ones too."

"That is because witches are both good and evil, just like humans are both good and evil," I tell the girl.

And then I realize something. I know why that first time in town had been so horrible. It had not been precisely because strangers hated me, but because I had found out that Angielle was populated by a people that would further wound an already injured child.

I had found out that my mother was right; that people, in their most primitive nature, were self-seeking, not caring if they hurt me…evil.

I had never gotten over that. It is difficult to ignore the truth. As I had gotten to know more people, it had become apparent that there were good people as well…or at least, there was more light in them than darkness. All mortals fail sometimes, but some take responsibility for their actions and try to make things better, while others do not.

"So," the child considers, "my fairytale books aren't really all true?"

I shake my head. "They are stories, and stories are not the same as real life. Aside from witches, there is another example I can give you. You know that in fairytales, the mother is always kind and the stepmother is always mean?" The girl nods her head, and I noticed Rod turn toward me. "Well, in my case, my mother was _very_ mean, but my stepmother is kind. It is not like in the fairytales at all."

The girl nods slowly. "My best friend was scared when she got a stepmother after her mother died, because of the fairytales making all the stepmothers scary. But her stepmother is really nice, so she was afraid for no good reason at all. She makes the _best_ honeycakes!"

I have to smile at the child. Things are really so simple for them. It is little wonder that Waltz enjoys them so. "Clearly, she is a gem."

It is not long before hide-and-go-seek is over, and tag replaces it. The little blond girl tells me goodbye before going to join the other children, and Rod turns to me.

"What _else_ did she do?" Rod asks me.

I can only assume he means my mother. "I lose track sometimes," I tell him.

"There is obviously something else she did to you that you consider significant," he tells me. "What was it?"

And I cannot tell him the truth…or at least, not the entire truth. I settle on something nearly as horrendous that will satisfy my brother's curiosity. "I found out that she did not interfere with my friendship with Waltz when I was young, because she _wanted_ him to grow close to me, so I would a vulnerability she could exploit to control him," I say, and my brother's face darkens. "She tried to use me to corrupt the most generous, kindest person in the world."

"That's…that's…" Rod trails off. "I cannot _think_ of a word terrible enough for that!"

"That is because there is not one," I admit.

"Does Waltz know this?" he asks.

I nod. "It's what made him decide to betray her to Parfait, even if he did not necessarily realize what she was doing at the time. She tried to use me to corrupt him…but he fought back."

Rod nods sadly. "My tutor says that most tyrants create their own greatest enemy."

But I know that my mother's greatest enemy is me. Not Waltz, not Parfait…me. I am the one she chose to measure herself against; I am the one that will either justify or condemn her by either falling myself or suffering what she suffered without doing so. I can save her by condemning myself, or save myself by condemning her.

I know that there is no other way, but that does not stop me from hating it. And I realize that Rod's tutor was still correct. My mother quite literally created _me_ , and then made me her most dangerous foe.

I lean back, and watch the children play as they squeal as they get away or groan as they are tagged. They have no greater anxiety than that they will be 'it' next if they are tagged. And I cannot help but envy them. The only time I was that free, even as a child, was when Waltz played with me.

I watch my husband too, as he plays with the children, wearing a broad smile as he tags one and then runs in the other direction. He looks so happy, so at peace as he runs with the youngsters, forgetting his cares for an hour or so as he makes his young friends laugh and play. And I realize that these children help him forget his burdens, they help ease them, so he is able to help me carry mine.

And the envy is gone in a flash of gratitude.

…..


	40. An Interview

**Chapter 40. An Interview**

One day, Waltz brings me an invitation when he returns from the palace. Father is conducting a final interview for Myth's replacement in his court, and wishes me to be present. I tell Waltz to inform him that I will be there, and the next day my husband and I find ourselves sitting in my father's study.

"I thought it appropriate, since he may be serving yourself someday as well as myself in the meantime, that you two meet before I make it official," my father tells me when we are all ready to start.

My father sits behind his large, mahogany desk in his study with Lord Decimond and I occupying the two chairs in front of it. My husband sits in the periphery of the room near one of the bookshelves, watchful but not participating, already taking to his role as my consort. He is allowed and encouraged to watch for anything I might miss, but the decisions are not his to make.

Of all the candidates wishing the position of political advisor to the king, Lord Decimond, the very same that is now engaged to Viorica, impressed my father the most. The man appears about thirty years of age, has dark brown hair and eyes, and a nose just a little too long for most women to call him attractive. He is known to be intelligent, and a shrewd man in his business dealings. Best of all, I do not know that he has any connection to either Myth or Alcaster. I do note that he tends to delay his own wedding due to political turmoil within the palace, when the wedding was originally scheduled to occur shortly before my eighteenth birthday. I do not know if he does this because he wishes his fiancée's best friend, Princess Emelaigne, to be able to attend, or if he senses a change in the political spectrum and decides it would be more practical for him to remain single in case a more politically advantageous marriage would become necessary.

I realize that I do not know how much he loves Viorica. With the king married to a former baker, there is a degree of fashion at the current time in marrying below one's class. I may have reinforced this, in a fashion, by marrying Waltz who had been a street entertainer. However, Waltz had also been instrumental in winning the Great War, and heroes of the realm are always given special dispensation even in lands that have greater gulfs between the classes than Angielle does. Saving the nation or royal family from destruction is always seen as a deed worthy of the highest reward a king may bestow, and an occasional infusion of courageous blood into the royal family is a boon for the royals as well. If nothing else it prevents inbreeding, stupidity, and cowardice from becoming too prevalent in the royal houses.

"I find it most appropriate, Father," I tell him, looking at Decimond who appears to be trying to project an air of confidence and competence. Somehow, I am certain that he is both, but I could see where my witchy ways might give him a little pause, and thus give him the feeling that he has to perform more when in my presence. I am not concerned with his competence as my father has never made a mistake that I know of in discerning _that_ about a person, but integrity….

"And I am very pleased to finally meet you in person, Your Highness," Decimond tells me with a smile. "His Majesty has already thoroughly interviewed me, but if you have any additional questions to ask me, I would be only too pleased to answer."

"I really have only one question for you," I admit, doubting that it will please him. "Why is there a discrepancy between what your fiancée believes concerning the night you met and the actual facts?"

Decimond's eyes widen slightly before his expression returns to normal. He is surprised, but he hides it fairly well…though not quite well enough. "What do you mean by that, Your Highness?" he asks almost able to keep the worry from his voice, and my father gives a slight frown as he sits back in his chair behind the desk.

"It was a rainy night," I start. Rod will probably be angry at me for this, but it is necessary under the circumstances. "She slipped and fell into the rising water, and does not remember anything between falling into the water and waking on land to see you with her. She assumed that you had rescued her out of the stream, potentially risked your own life; that you had gone in after her to save her when she was nothing but a stranger to you. The truth of the matter is that you found her on the bank, and someone else had saved her. You have never told your fiancée the truth concerning this."

Decimond actually blanches a little bit before partially regaining his composure. "Princess, I was not aware that anyone knew…how…?"

I give him a small shrug. "If you ask either Viorica or the person that rescued her that night, both will deny telling me anything about it. However, you may have heard rumors that I am a witch. This is actually accurate," I tell him, a little tongue-in-cheek. "Occasionally, when I have the time, I like to do a little 'research' myself."

He is quiet for a long moment, and takes a deep breath. "Your stepbrother or your stepsister. One of them saved her, and then ran off to get help…they were good friends. It would make sense. Either one might see that Viorica appeared happy thinking that I had saved her, and kept their silence. You could have used your other…arts…to find that Viorica remained ignorant of the truth."

I almost smile; he has come to the correct conclusion so quickly. This man has a brain, and the political advisor needs exactly that. "You are not wrong," I tell him, and my father's eyebrows rise as he watches us. He never had any idea about any of this. "Why have you not been forthright with the girl you intend to marry?"

A slight frown comes to Decimond's brow. "Everything we have was built on that night. I did not tell her about it at first because I did not know what she had assumed, since when I first laid eyes on her, she was unconscious on the riverbank. I had gotten off my horse, thinking she might have merely slipped and hit her head or some such, and was in danger of falling into the rising water. I got her the attention she needed, and returned to see her to ensure her health had returned, but it was not until later that I realized that she thought that I had gone into the water to save her.

"I must admit that I was infatuated with her by that point. I was fearful that if I told her the truth, she would lose interest in me in favor of whoever _had_ rescued her," he admits. "It was my greatest fear that the true rescuer might present him or herself, and Viorica would believe that I had been deliberately deceitful with her the entire time."

"And now?" I ask him. "Is your relationship with her still so fragile considering that she has accepted your proposal?"

"I…have been considering if full disclosure is a risk I should take, or not," he admits. "But this interview concerns my suitability to advise your father, and potentially one day yourself, on political matters. My dealings with my fiancée are my personal business."

"And an indication to your integrity, or your lack thereof," I tell him. "A man that lacks it in his personal life will also lack it in his professional dealings. This not only concerns how faithfully you will serve your monarch, but what potential others might have to sway you through blackmail."

"Forgive me Your Highness," he tells me, "but have you always shown the upmost integrity in your personal dealings? Have you always been forthcoming with your husband and father, for instance?"

 _And this serves me right, having asked this question of him…and I cannot tell him how manipulative I really can be._ "My husband would tell you that I have always been very forthcoming, even blunt, with him. My father…would tell you that we have had problems with communicating properly with each other for some time, but that we are both working on it. This is probably why I was invited to the conclusion of your interview tonight."

"You…would be correct, Lucette," my father admits. "Given your involvement in disposing of my last advisor, I thought it fitting if you would be able to see if this one might be a better choice."

"The last one was a corrupted witch that wanted your kingdom to be ruled under darkness. Compared to that, your _horse_ would be a better choice," I deadpan, and allow my vision to shift long enough to see Decimond as yellow. "At the very least, I can tell you that this one is human, and I have never seen him talking to Mother's portrait either."

Decimond looks troubled at this. "Sir Mythros…he…he was a witch? I take it that he did not resign voluntarily either."

"I…am not sure that you would necessarily want to know the details. Or even you, Father," I say, looking over at him as well. "It is not a…comfortable story, and there is nothing to be done about it that has not already been done."

My father looks concerned and Decimond still looks a little uncomfortable, their minds likely racing to fit together the pieces of a potentially disturbing puzzle. "Perhaps," my father says slowly, "not the particulars, but you never really gave me much information about what had happened."

I sigh, deciding what I can and cannot tell these men. And another partial truth that I can use to my advantage is what I settle on. Decimond would be wary indeed of going against me, or betraying my father, if he accepts what I am about to tell him. "Fine. Mother did not die at the end of the war like was commonly thought." My father turns white at this, but I hurry to explain. "She is dead now," I say, and some of the blood starts to return to his face. "What happened was that she installed herself within the Tenebrarum to stabilize it and save herself. Her plan was to have her faithful apprentice, Myth, get me to release her from the Tenebrarum and corrupt me when my own magic awoke if he was able to do so. Myth put on a glamour to disguise himself, and managed to install himself as 'Sir Mythros.' He attempted to follow Mother's orders, but instead of cooperating in his effort to free Mother or allowing him to corrupt me, I cursed him and turned him into stone. I did not come to any physical harm during this, if that is what you are wondering."

I hear Decimond swallow hard from beside me. "Then how…how _did_ Hildyr die, Princess?" he asks, although I am certain he already knows the answer.

"Isn't it obvious from the information I have already given you?" I ask him, starkly. "She was trapped in the Tenebrarum, and it needed a Bearer. Once my own magic awoke, it became mine. I am the only one that can directly affect the Tenebrarum…I was the only one that had the capability to kill my mother."

"Lucette, I'm so sorry," my father tells me from across the desk. "I never realized…."

"I never told you that she had survived the war until just now," I tell him. "You had no way of knowing."

My father takes a deep breath. "I still wish you had told me."

"It's the sort of thing one finds difficult to work into everyday conversation," I say quietly. "And it's over. It needed to be over long ago and, as I was the only one with the capacity to end it, it was my duty to do so. Waltz had come with me unseen to ensure I did not come to harm when facing Myth, and knew everything if you are concerned about me carrying my burdens alone." My father nods, accepting that, and I turn around to face Decimond who is watching me even more warily now. "Well, your secret is that you didn't rescue your fiancée from drowning and allowed her to believe that you did, and mine is that I killed my own mother. It does not seem quite an even trade on the surface, though ironically if these facts became publically known, you would be thought a scoundrel and I a hero."

"As you say, Your Highness," Decimond admits, his voice sounding as if his mouth is dry. "You have a way of putting things into an…interesting perspective. You obviously do not shirk from _anything_ you consider your duty." He knows that very few princesses are willing to get their own hands dirty, and I cannot help but remember myself holding Fritz's sword as it passes through Alcaster's neck. I almost find it amusing that he came to the correct conclusion about me for the wrong reason.

I tilt my chin up very slightly as I look at him. "If my father deems you to have sufficient integrity to serve him, that is his business. I have said my piece. Your part, in this equation, is whether or not you still want this position, knowing that you might serve me one day. Faithfulness I would reward with honors, and oath breaking with justice. My capabilities for finding out which to utilize will be greater than that of a normal monarch." Will he risk becoming my next statue, following in the footsteps of his predecessor, or remain loyal for the honors I might offer him instead? 'Honors' is one of those words that can be broadly defined, and most men automatically insert the specific boon they wish for themselves when they hear that word. It is much like the word 'change;' most people imagine the differences that _they_ want occurring, without giving much thought to what the speaker actually means.

"Honest disagreement I would allow, as it is the purpose of an advisor to give opinions, and I do not doubt that there will be times that we _do_ disagree," I admit. "Sometimes there is simply more than one adequate solution to a problem in our efforts to serve Angielle. I will not tolerate anyone trying to control me, I will not tolerate anyone purposefully lying to me."

Decimond nods slowly. "I…am acutely aware of that, Your Highness. And I still believe that I have the capability to serve, and to serve well. I…just ask that you request your stepsibling, whichever is responsible, to refrain from telling Viorica of the situation for another week or two, to give me ample time to do so myself. I…realize that I should have been forthcoming with her some time ago, but I am unsure of the best way to tell her."

"Ensuring you have the chance to tell her first should not be a problem," I tell him knowing that Rod never tells Viorica the truth, and actually somewhat pleased with my father's choice. This one is not an idiot, or a lunatic. If he proves himself loyal to my father, he would make a fine appointee for the position. "I would expect her to be upset, at least for a time. Most women would be…but that does not mean that she would _necessarily_ break the engagement. Whether she does or not will depend on if she loves you, or the image she has of you. If it is only an image she loves, you are both better off without each other. It is better you find out now."

Lord Decimond still appears a little troubled when my father thanks and dismisses him, with the promise that he will send word on whether he gets the position in a few weeks. "You are waiting to see if he indeed tells her?" I ask, after Decimond leaves the room and Waltz quietly takes his chair. "I presume you wish me to check in on her to see if he has followed through?"

"I think that might be prudent," my father admits. "You are correct. Someone that has no integrity in personal dealings will also have none in professional dealings, and this position requires as much trust as Alcaster's position."

Personally, I would give Decimond a lower score for 'integrity' if the man decides that he must clear up the 'misunderstanding' with his fiancée to get a position of power before he will speak to her on the matter. As far as I know, he has never revealed the truth to her before…or at least if he has, neither of my stepsiblings have told me of it. I suppose it is possible that he did tell her before their wedding, and they kept the matter private between themselves. Perhaps I should not make the assumption that he _never_ told her. "Would his duties would involve being your intelligence minister as well?" I ask.

My father grimaces. "Mythros…Myth…handled both posts at his behest, but I am thinking of separating the duties."

I nod. "Do so. Influence is better distributed rather than concentrated. That way, there is less temptation to step outside of one's boundaries. And…the intelligence minister would be in the best position to tell you of the corruption in or the misuse of other offices, so it should be kept separate from every other office, even if the information the intelligence minister obtains is shared outside his office."

My father is quiet for a moment. "I really need to talk to your tutor. Rod and Emelaigne do not seem to be doing nearly as well in the area of political matters as you, and you have had other education priorities lately."

I shake my head slightly at him. "They were not raised with the suspicion that those around them might be wearing masks. For better or worse, I was. Sometimes it is true."

My father sighs. "I wish your upbringing could have been different. You deserved much better than you got."

"She did not exactly give you a choice," I remind my father. "At least…you had no choices until she was defeated."

"Did I ever tell you that I was responsible for the rooms of treats and presents arranged for your birthdays?" my father asks. "That is why I signed the letters with an 'M' and told you to keep them secret."

"No, you didn't tell me," I say softly. "I always thought that Mother had been responsible, but had never wanted to tell me that she cared about my birthday outright." I am silent for a moment. "Why did you stop after the war was over? If you had continued to do so, I would have guessed you were responsible instead, would have known that you cared."

"I…had wanted to give you presents in person," he admits. "I did not think about it in those terms, that you would connect that I had always been responsible."

I shake my head slowly. "We _really_ don't communicate well, do we?"

"We were never good at that," he admits. "At least, it appears to be getting better." He is silent for a moment. "And I'm sorry about…that you had to kill her yourself. It can't have been easy…whatever else she was…she was your mother."

"I'm honestly not sure what I feel about that," I admit, "or what I should feel about it." I am aware that I have not disclosed that I hadn't done so on purpose. How can I preach on integrity to Decimond, and then reveal to my father that I am manipulating the man, trying to ensure that he will be loyal to my father instead of easy prey for Alcaster's recruitment? I have implied to Decimond that if he attempts to betray my father, that I will know about it in advance and destroy him…all for the good of Angielle, of course. "Whenever I think about her, I feel numb…or sick to my stomach. Grief sometimes, or anger."

A muscle in my father's cheek twitches. "I never intended to have anyone in your position," he admits. "I never intended to have a child with her, but such things can be…."

"Forced," my husband says quietly, speaking up for the first time since he entered the room.

"Exactly," my father says. "But I loved you when I set eyes on you. And I had no idea how I could help you avoid your mother's chosen fate. I honestly do not know how that after everything that has happened to you, that you are turning out as good and as capable as you have been lately. Unless it's simply…" he trails off, looking at my husband.

"She deserves most of the credit, herself," Waltz reminds my father.

"You let me know that I was not alone, that I was cared for," I say quietly. "There were no strings attached to your affection. My smiles alone were enough to please you, and time never changed that. I could be vulnerable around you because I had no fear that you would use my weaknesses to hurt me."

My father nods. "Which was why you were comfortable marrying him, even though you had no contact with each other for four years. I…understand that now."

 _Well, that's not_ exactly _the entire truth._ But I nod anyway. "I think we should go now. I have other work to do tonight." As ever, my task of repairing the Tenebrarum hovers ominously in my mind. I rise from my chair, and my father gets up from his to offer a hug which I accept.

"You know," he tells me, "I wouldn't mind seeing one of those smiles a little more often, myself."

I give him one and say, "Thank you for inviting me here tonight, Father. It's good to know that my input is appreciated in these matters."

He nods. "You deserve to be heard. Speaking of which, what exactly do you make of Lord Decimond?"

I think for a moment, trying to decide how to put a finger on my impression of him. "I think that he is the sort of man that would do the right thing for the wrong reason. He wants what he wants, but as long as there is still a legitimate and legal path to achieve it, then that is the path he will take. If you can figure out what he wants and put it where it appears obtainable to him, you will not have to worry about him betraying you."

"Which is why you made it clear immediately what your expectations of him were, that you would reward him for meeting them, and bring 'justice' for indiscretions of sufficient magnitude," my father says, nodding. "That was very…skillfully done, if a little unconventional in the way you accomplished it. In fact, I would like you to take a more…active…role in learning how to rule the kingdom when your other priorities allow it. I do not want to put too much on your plate, and I know that there are things that demand your attention, but I want to give you the option to do so."

"I…think I would like that," I admit. It could give me more leverage against Alcaster, if nothing else. "I think I could be available for such tasks some afternoons." _It's not like I'm running errands for Parfait this time through, and I do not imagine that Emelaigne will be wanting to share one of our lessons_ every _day._

With that, Waltz and I leave my father's study and make our way into the secret passages, where my fractured burden and tears await me.

…

The cracks seemed to be growing noticeably fewer when I inspected the Tenebrarum before getting started. I usually look at it before beginning, as I am not normally in a condition to make detailed assessments once I am done for the evening.

When I am finished tonight, as always, the sting in my heart fades as my husband gently pulls me out of the pain. His kisses, his touch, distract me from what _was_ as I remember what _is_. While he sometimes comforts me with words, telling me of what he hopes will be, that is not usually what he gets my attention with first. Tactile sensations are what distract me the fastest.

The thing about physical affection, though, is that it is addictive. One kiss does not make me feel warm and flushed as it once did. For a while, being held close while Waltz gave me more kisses worked, until it didn't, and then things progressed further. Tonight, as always, my husband slows down and finally ceases his ministrations as I start to respond to him. And I want more…but I will not push him.

"Better?" he asks me with a gentle smile, his fingers wiping the last tear from my face.

"Yes," I admit, "but I wish…." I sigh. I will not push him, no matter how much I want him. My nausea is starting to get better, as well as the fatigue. I feel in better form to enjoy what we could have, if only….

"I've noticed that it takes a little more, a little longer, each time," he notes, and I nod.

"We both know where this will end up, eventually," I tell my husband. "I…only hope that you feel yourself ready for it when it does. I hope you will want me, then."

He shakes his head at me. "Do you have _any_ idea what a temptation you are?" he asks me. "Do you have any idea what it is like having a beautiful, willing wife sleeping in my bed? I can't keep my eyes off of you Lucette. I find it a wonder that I can exercise the self-control that I do."

I blink at him, surprised. I know that he looks at me, admires my face and form even though more than my bust is starting to grow, but for him to want more…. "But if you want me that badly, then why haven't you…."

"I need to tell you that I'm in love with you first. I…don't know that it would be fair to you until then," he answers.

"When is that happening?" I ask teasingly before changing to a softer, more serious, tone. "I mean…Waltz…you demonstrate that you love me every day. I know that you love me…even if you do not necessarily say it with words. Just the same…I want to hear them."

He looks at me seriously for a moment before he smiles gently at me. "Soon, Lucette. Soon. And…I want you to never doubt that I would do anything for you." His smile fades as his expression turns serious. "I'm not losing you. It…would not surprise me if corruption tried to present itself to you in these sessions. You have to be very careful."

"What…does it look or feel like if it does try?" I ask him.

Waltz sighs. "I have never seen it myself, but I know that sometimes it presents itself as voices that promise things, usually an easier way to get what you want. Sometimes it presents itself as fog that tries to surround you, or a path to extra power. If I ever find you in a state in which corruption might be trying to tempt you, I will do whatever I can to get rid of the pain, anger, or fear that allows you to be in that state. Once you allow corruption into you, accept what it offers…" my husband trails off before he can continue.

"Lucette," he finally tells me, "if you see a miasma…run."

…


	41. Becoming Family

**Chapter 41. Becoming Family**

It is less than a week since the interview that Emelaigne suggests going into town again, and I find myself in the carriage with her, Rod, and my husband once more. "I got a letter from Viorica this morning," she says, explaining her desire for a sudden departure. "I know that I shouldn't skive off my lessons and drag the rest of you with me, but she sounded upset about something."

Rod frowns, concerned, across the carriage from me. "Did she say what had happened?"

"No," Emelaigne admits. "Just that she wanted to see us…both of us. She said she wanted to ask us about something."

 _Well, this is a little faster than I expected Decimond to come out with it. He probably decided that there was nothing to be gained by waiting any longer._ "She did not ask to see Waltz and I as well, did she?" I ask.

"No," Emelaigne tells me. " _I_ wanted you to come. The three of us…Rod, Viorica, and I…have been friends for years, and even though it sounds like whatever her problem is might be a sensitive subject…Father says that you tend to notice things that even _he_ doesn't. If Rod and I can't help her…maybe you can."

And now I sigh, feeling guilty, since I know that I am the reason for Viorica's distress. Well, the reason the subject reared its head, at least. Decimond, Rod, and Viorica herself are the reason for the situation. "I do not know if I can be of any help in her situation…whatever it might be."

"Do you think she may have had a fight with her fiancée?" Emelaigne asks. "I know that Father invited you to his final interview with Lord Decimond. Did he mention that he was having any problems with Viorica?"

"I cannot deny that her name came up," I say as the carriage comes to a stop.

Rod does not have time to do anything but give me a startled and concerned look before I rise and exit the carriage, and there is nothing else for the rest of them to do but follow me.

When we enter the toyshop, I hear a somewhat melancholy, "How can I help…."

"Viorica," Emelaigne says, rushing over to her friend to give her a hug. "What's wrong?"

Waltz and I hang back while Rod walks up to the girl somewhat tense, as if he is afraid of the answer to his question. "Did you and Decimond have a fight? Was he…mean to you?"

And I know what my brother wants to know is if the man he allowed to have Viorica deserves her, or not.

Viorica takes a deep breath, letting go of Emelaigne, to look Rod in the eye. "Not…exactly," Viorica admits, just barely keeping back tears. "It's just that…I made a wrong assumption. Decimond didn't correct me at first, because he didn't know what I had assumed, but he didn't correct me later when he found that I had made a mistake because he was afraid…."

"Viorica," Emelaigne says, "slow down and explain. You aren't making any sense!"

But she is making perfect sense to me, and I see Rod turning faintly pale. She is making sense to him, too. And Viorica notices the look on his face. "It was you Rod, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry Viorica," my brother tells the girl. "I couldn't tell you myself."

Emelaigne looks back and forth between her brother and her friend, quite plainly lost. "Would one of you _please_ tell me what is going on!"

Rod looks down at the floor, and Viorica looks at him and sighs. "He didn't even tell you?" she says, looking at Emelaigne who still looks very confused. And Viorica starts to explain. "You know that night I fell in the river? The night I met Decimond? I remember falling into the water, and waking up on shore with Decimond beside me trying to determine if I had been injured…and then he took care of me. I had always thought that he had gone into the water to get me, and it was raining so hard he was as soaked as I was, but he just told me that he hadn't gone into the water at all. He had just found me on the riverbank beside the road, and came over because he was worried that I _would_ fall in, or that I had fallen down and hurt myself. He hadn't…he hadn't risked his life to save mine like I thought he had."

"Oh, Viorica," Emelaigne says, trying to comfort her friend. "That doesn't mean that he doesn't love you! That doesn't mean that he wouldn't have gone into the water to save you if he had been there when you had fallen in!"

"But I fell in love with him at least in part because I thought that he risked his life for me when I was nothing but a stranger to him!" she explains. "And that wasn't true! He knew that I was grateful to him, but he did not figure out that I thought that he had jumped into the river to save me right away! When he _did_ find out what I had assumed, well, by that time he was falling in love with me and was afraid that I wouldn't love him if I found out that he hadn't gone in after me! He thought that I would be happier with him if I didn't know than apart if I did!"

For once, Emelaigne is speechless, not saying a word. Rod is still staring at the floor, and Viorica finally continues, looking at my brother now. "Decimond was right, wasn't he?" she says. "He thought that it might have been a friend of mine that went into the water that night and saved me. He thought that whoever had had probably gone off to get help, and that is why he had found me alone. He…he thought that it might have been one of you." Rod finally raises his eyes up to look at Viorica, obviously in pain. "And now I know," Viorica says softly, finally disengaging herself from Emelaigne to fully face Rod. "It was you Rod. It had always been you…. Why…why did you never tell me?"

"I wanted to at first," Rod tries to explain, "but I was embarrassed about panicking and running off to find help when I should have stayed with you. And then you…you seemed so happy thinking Decimond had saved you. I…I didn't want to spoil it. I thought you would stop being happy if I told you the truth…or that maybe you wouldn't believe me because you might not want to hear it."

"Of course I would have believed you!" Viorica says. "I…you were one of my best friends! Of course I knew that you wouldn't lie to me, even about something I might not want to accept!" She is silent for a moment. "But…if you cared enough for me to do that, to risk your life for mine, why have you become so distant from me lately…ever since I started my relationship with Decimond?"

"Because of how much I cared about you, Viorica," Rod admits sadly. "You were always…special to me. As we grew up, it became closer to…" he trails off, and takes a deep breath. "I loved you, and I wanted nothing more or less than for you to be happy…and I wanted you to be happy with me. But you were so set on what you thought was meant to be, that it was romantic that you had been rescued by a lord, that I knew that I didn't stand a chance! I was the son of a widow that worked as a baker, and he was a lord! That's why I…." Rod trails off, as if unable to say more.

"Wait a minute," Emelaigne says, incredulously. "Is _that_ why you were cursed Rod? You wanted to be a prince, in order to compete with a lord? And you exchanged your voice for it?"

"And it was already too late," Rod says. "You were already so in love with Decimond, you didn't see me even when I became a prince."

"I…I never knew," Viorica says sadly. "But that still really doesn't explain why you became so…distant."

"When I figured that you had fallen in love with Decimond," Rod tells her, "it hurt too much for me to do anything else. Maybe it was wrong…but it was the only thing I could think of to make the pain even a little bit better. As much as I wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn't with me, if I wasn't in the room I didn't have to hear you talk about another man romancing you when I wished you were mine. You would speak of nothing else; it was as if your life was made of nothing else except _him_ and there was no room for me even as a friend. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound."

"I…never meant to hurt you Rod," Viorica says. "I had no idea that I was causing you pain. And now…I'm not sure what I should do. I…I told Decimond that I need to think about this a bit before I see him again."

"Did you break your engagement?" Emelaigne asks, still looking a little stunned that any of this is happening.

"Not…exactly," Viorica says, and Rod deflates a little. "I'm just not sure."

"Do you love him or not?" I say, finally butting into this heart-to-heart conversation.

Viorica actually jumps, as if she has just noticed me standing there. "Your Highness, I'm so sorry…."

"You do not need to be sorry. You are obviously in distress," I tell the girl. "Is it Decimond that you love, or merely the image you had built up of him?"

"My…image of him?" she asks me. "I'm afraid I don't really understand the question."

I nod, having expected that. This girl is nice enough, but she is not exactly the smartest lass in town. "You decided that you loved Decimond before getting to know him, basing your affection on an assumption that proved to be mistaken. Since then, you have gotten a chance to get to know him better, and if you have succeeded in this, your fantasy image of him may have morphed into the man he truly is. When you accepted his proposal of marriage, did you decide to marry the man you came to know, or the man you thought he was when you met him?"

Viorica nods slowly. "That…makes sense. While he is fair and a decent man, I know that he isn't as altruistic as I thought he would be judging by that first night. It confused me that he would be willing to risk everything for me when I was a stranger, but in everyday life he only proffers what would be considered expected in any given situation."

I nod. "Fantastical images of people never survive reality. It is only when you know their foibles, their weaknesses, that you can learn if you love them or not. The question you should be asking yourself is that now that you know that Decimond will hide truths from you, for whatever reason, can you live with it?"

The girl is silent for a moment before saying "…Rod, you withheld the truth from me too."

"It was because you were so happy believing that he had rescued you. I…didn't want to spoil it," my brother says.

Viorica sighs. "The two of you aren't that different, are you? You both will decide what will make me happy for me."

And my brother has no response to that. He knows that she is right.

"Why did he finally tell you the truth, then?" Emelaigne asks, either because she genuinely wants to know or just to break the awkward silence.

"Decimond…was interviewing for the position as the king's political advisor," Viorica explains. "The subject of integrity came up during a final interview with His Majesty and Princess Lucette. She…knew the entire story, and confronted Decimond wanting to know why he hadn't told me the truth."

Rod turns to look at me. "Lucette? What did you…how did you…? You only knew that I had been cursed, what the potential consequences were, and that it involved Viorica! Why did you…?" he practically splutters.

"It is a position that requires integrity, and carries a great deal of trust," I remind my brother. "I cannot shortchange Angielle by not asking that question when I was aware of the circumstances. I have my duty to the nation. I needed to know if Decimond had a good explanation for his behavior, or not." This does not appear to satisfy my brother, so I explain further.

"Parfait did not tell me, if that is your thought. I am a witch, Rod. I am far from omniscient, but knowing things, things I have no um…human…way to know, comes with the territory sometimes. I am sorry that I have brought light to something you carefully hid in order to bring Viorica joy, but comfortable lies will only do so much good, and I try to avoid the ones that I can. I have lived within the grasp of too many of them, myself." And I cannot help that my stomach curdles a little at the thought that I have just told my brother another half-truth to explain why I debunked a comfortable lie. I feel like a walking irony, sometimes.

"Such as?" Rod asks, obviously upset with me.

"That Mother was an ordinary queen," I answer him, recalling the most painful, comfortable lies I have ever been told. "That she died in an 'accident' during the war, that she loved me…."

Rod's anger fades as his face falls. "I'm…sorry Lucette. This is a sensitive issue for you."

Viorica looks at me, her eyes large. "Your Highness…you…you didn't know what your mother was?"

I shake my head. "Not until about a couple of months ago. She would erase my memories if she decided that I knew something or had seen something she thought I should not, and Father did not have the nerve to tell me until my magic manifested and he could not hide the truth any longer. Then, those erased memories started coming back."

Viorica shivers. "I intend no disrespect Your Highness, but I think that I would rather deal with my own problems than with yours."

 _So would everyone else, if they knew the truth. I would not change burdens with this girl, even if I could. I…think she would break faster than I._

Rod's mouth twists with Viorica's statement. He has at least _some_ idea of what I carry, and would not wish it on anyone at all.

It is not until we are back in the carriage alone that Rod and I continue our conversation. Emelaigne had wanted to stay with Viorica for a while by themselves, and Waltz stayed behind to play with the children a little before the carriage would return to pick them up. Half of the guard remained behind with them, to return shortly once Rod and I were deposited at the palace. I normally eat supper at the Marchen, but Ophelia invited us to supper at the palace tonight. I had accepted the invitation.

"At least," he admits as the carriage starts moving, "I know she will be making her decision based on the truth instead of a mistaken assumption."

I nod, eyeing my brother carefully and take the precaution of putting a sound barrier up in the carriage. "I noticed that you did not let her know that your curse could have killed you."

Rod sighs. "She already knows that I risked my life to save hers. I was not sure if it would make things better or worse if she knew that I had risked my life for her a second time. I wouldn't want her to make her choice out of guilt, for her to feel like she made me get myself cursed with a spell that could have killed me." He is silent for a moment. "She has enough information to make her choice as it is. I…admit that I had been curious if Decimond had told her the truth of that night, or not."

"You should have been more than curious…you should have been quite concerned about whether he had told her the truth or not. It is not just concerning if he thought their affection strong enough to handle such a revelation, but there are other reasons as well," I tell him. "You should have had some concern over how much he loved her."

"That possibility that he had not told her due to not wanting to lose her occurred to me," he admits, "but I was always more concerned for what she felt for him than what he felt for her."

I shake my head at him. "You should have been concerned about what he felt for her as well. Love is important in any marriage…but especially one which involves different classes. There are times when someone from a higher class will marry someone of a lower not out of love…but so they have someone they can control. It is not difficult to separate the 'socially inferior' person from people from their old life, and isolate them from making friends in the new class. Isolated people are easy to control. And this is why Mother isolated me…so she could control me. She knew that I would crave affection, and made sure that I would be denied it from anyone but her…until Waltz took pity on me. He actually rescued me from my mother before he was even aware he was fighting her."

"I…had never thought about it like that," Rod says, troubled. "If that possibility had occurred to me, I would have told her that I had been the one to save her when I thought of it."

I nod. "Decimond said during the interview that he had not realized her mistaken assumption at first, and later had not wanted to risk losing her. While it was wrong of him not to tell her, his error is at least understandable."

"Do…do you think that he loves her?" my brother asks.

"Probably…I am fairly certain that he does," I tell him. "If he had wanted to isolate and control her, he would have discarded her due to the fact that she is friendly with you and Emelaigne. She has friends in places higher than even his own station. This is especially true since he desires to be Father's advisor, which would put him in the palace often, and Viorica would have to be seen frequently for social engagements as his wife. This would make it impossible for him to cut off her contact with the two of you. Since he did not discard her for someone who might be easier to control, it is probable that he does love her. And…I think he is probably a decent man, even if not necessarily the most altruistic one."

Rod sighs and rubs his head as if he has a headache. "At least, if Decimond really does love her, he will be good to her if she still wants him. Still…I am not comfortable that she found out…."

"I could not do anything else Rod," I tell him. "My duty to the kingdom took priority over personal feelings…yours or mine."

Rod grimaces. "At least when performing your own duty, you found someone you loved."

I laugh quietly at him. "Nothing is without some difficulty."

My brother looks at me, surprised. "But…but you and Waltz always look like you are getting along so well. Don't tell me there's trouble there, and you two are just covering it up!"

"It is not…exactly that there is trouble," I say, trying to decide how to put this without telling him more than he would be comfortable knowing…more than I would be comfortable sharing. My husband has not yet said that he is in love with me and taken me to his bed in the intimate sense, and I am getting a little…frustrated. I have not admitted it to anyone but Parfait, and she reminds me to be patient. I know that it has only been a little more than two months, and it took nearly six months for him to fall in love with me every other time, but patience is not my strong suite. How long _does_ it take to fall in love if one is trying to do exactly that? Or is he already in love with me even now, but has yet to realize it? I know that he wants to provide for me, that he would stand with me during any storm, and that he desires me. Is that not love? And if it is, why has he not said it yet?

I find that I have no answer to those questions.

"You know the circumstances of our marriage better than most," I tell my brother. "While we did care very much for each other, the two of us were not _exactly_ in love at the time. We were two old friends, overjoyed to reunite…and I found myself in need of a husband immediately. Waltz agreed to fulfil that role, and we decided to try to make each other happy and learn to love one other. It is…just that I have fallen in love with him, and he is still in that process of falling in love with me. I think he's making progress, but it is hard to be patient sometimes."

Rod blinks, as if not quite believing his ears. "I would think that he would be the one to get emotionally attached the fastest…."

"I think falling in love with me might scare him a little," I admit, as a possibility rears its head. "My mother tried so hard to corrupt him and could not, but…he was never really emotionally attached to her in any way. And now, due to my own work in fixing the Tenebrarum, I am at an increased risk of falling myself." I sigh. "I think that he knows that if I do become corrupt myself, and he is in love with me at that time, he will lose himself to corruption to keep me…which was possibly what Mother had been planning all along but then she decided to attempt to expedite matters." Perhaps patience had not been my mother's strong suite, either. If she had waited until I grew up, until Waltz fell in love with me, and _then_ found a way to corrupt me she could have had everything she had wanted. Instead, she had chosen to erase my memories of him, and it had triggered his betrayal of her. "On the other hand, I am fairly certain that he also knows that I am less likely to fall if I know that he is in love with me. He knows that I need him, but he must risk everything he is to give me what I need."

Rod only shakes his head at me. "And I thought that my relationship with Viorica was potentially painful and risky. I only endangered my life twice for her; once when I saved her and once with that curse. But what you need of Waltz…."

I smile weakly at my brother. "Humans have it so easy, sometimes," I sigh. "You do not have to worry about as many fates worse than death."

My brother's features take on a determined cast. "If that's what you need of your husband, you should have it."

"Rod, I…." I do not want him talking with Father about this. "Just…if you decide to say anything about this conversation to Waltz, do so in private and ask him to put a sound barrier up. I am not saying that I am requesting you to talk to him about this, but at least do not mention it to anyone else. I would rather keep the matter private."

Rod nods. "I understand, and will do as you say in that. But Lucette, it is not just about what you want, or what he does. You said it yourself…you have your duty to Angielle. We all need to do anything and everything to give you the best chance of fixing the Tenebrarum so you survive, _and_ remain uncorrupted. Anything else could be disastrous. And I'm not going to let anything hurt you if I can do anything about it."

And I cannot help but smile at my brother. He is becoming nearly as protective of me as he is of Emelaigne in addition to accepting that I have duties I have to perform. Rod not only cares, but he _understands_ as well.

….

As it is only midafternoon, when I return to the palace I go to my old room and supervise a little as maids pack my dolls carefully away in preparation for the shelving to be moved. I also go into my closet, and find the new things the seamstress and tailor have begun to deliver, and put them aside so I can return with them to the Marchen.

"Your Majesty," I hear a maid say, and I exit my dressing room expecting to find my father standing in my room, but instead I see Ophelia there.

"Lucette," she asks me, "do you mind if the maids finish this in a little while?"

"There is no rush," I say, and the two maids present curtsey to us and leave the bedroom, closing the door behind them at the obvious dismissal.

Ophelia looks around at the packing. "This must be hard for you," she says, pointing at the inanimate objects that had once been my only comfort. Now, my dolls lay in boxes carefully wrapped in wool so they are not damaged in storage.

"It is time," I tell her. "I…really do not need them anymore."

My stepmother nods. "It is good that you have been able to find comfort elsewhere. Does this packing imply that you will be returning to the palace soon? We enjoy your visits, but you would be more than welcome to live here with the rest of us again. Apparently, you control your magic well enough that safety is no longer a problem."

I shake my head as I walk over to the couch, and Ophelia joins me. "Not in the near future, no. Parfait needs me for things at times. While I conduct repairs and learn more powerful spells in Mother's old laboratory…I prefer that the rest of my lessons take place elsewhere when weather permits it."

Ophelia nods. "I…can see where you might." She pauses before continuing. "Lucette…I just wanted to thank you. Emelaigne has been so much happier lately, between becoming more friendly with you and getting to know your husband. I know your circumstances were…irregular…but you really married a lovely young man."

I give her a small smile. "Waltz is wonderful, but it might be more accurate to say that _I_ became more friendly with _Emelaigne_. She is so energetic and optimistic I had originally thought her duplicitous because I did not think that anyone could genuinely be that upbeat. I eventually figured out that that is simply her manner, and when she does use her smile as a mask she is generally doing so in order to not upset others."

Ophelia gives a soft laugh. "Yes…that is my daughter for certain. She is always trying to please others, and is nervous about failing to do so."

"She struggles with her new roles," I tell Ophelia. "She asked me about what her responsibilities were as an adult princess rather than an adolescent one. Since she is not immediately inclined to marriage or social functions, I had suggested practical functions but…."

My stepmother nods. "Yes, she mentioned that the two of you were scheduled to go on an inspection outing next week."

I nod. "My point is she will need to have more than a good head for numbers for that kind of work. The entire point of inspections is to see if rules are being followed, and if they are not, appropriate actions need to be taken. She will not be able to please people in that situation, and do what is needful."

"I see what you mean," Ophelia says. "I know that she wants to be useful, but unless she learns to correct others, she might be better off hosting tea parties as horrible as that might sound to her."

"That was my thought as well," I admit. "I intend to pick a location that is likely to have problems to see how she handles it when we find them. Do you have an objection to this strategy?"

"So long as it is nothing dangerous, no…though I could not imagine how an inspection of anything could turn out that way," Ophelia says.

I shrug. "That is what guards are for. I was just planning to pick a place where there might be indications that the Crown's inspector might be being bribed. There could be some conflict when whoever is in charge realizes that it is difficult to bribe a princess or threaten a witch under the king's protection, and that it is unwise to do anything at all to anger a pregnant woman of any sort."

Ophelia gives me a small smile. "That…could lead to an interesting situation. Hopefully, you will not run into anything…too interesting."

"If it gets bad, I could open a portal and send both her and myself somewhere safe," I answer, "but I do not anticipate needing to do so. However, depending on what we _do_ find, I might expect her to be somewhat upset when we get back. I guess my real question is that now that you consider her an adult, how sheltered do you want her to remain?"

My stepmother frowns slightly, considering the question. "Every mother wants to protect her children from harm, be it mental or physical. But you are correct in that her father and I kept her fairly sheltered while he was alive, and I have continued to do so. But I also know that I will not be there to protect her forever, there may very well come a time in which she needs to protect herself, and one day she may have to protect her own children. Perhaps…perhaps it is time that she starts learning a bit more about the world so she can defend herself from it."

I nod. "Then that is what I will try to facilitate." I pause, and look at her for a moment. She seems…sad about it. "It must be hard to watch your children grow up."

Ophelia laughs lightly. "Oh, you will learn that yourself soon enough. As soon as that baby arrives, and he lands in your arms…you will want nothing more than to be able to protect him forever. And from that point on, you will have to let him go bit by bit. The decision to have children is like deciding to have pieces of your heart wandering around outside of you."

"I do not know that one can call it a 'decision' when it is the only viable choice," I say, and Ophelia glances down, looking a bit hurt. I sigh. "I am sorry Ophelia. I do not mean to sound like I am snapping at you. I just wish that my baby was…arriving under better circumstances. I spend a lot of effort taking actions to protect him, to give him the best chance he has at survival."

"It's…it's alright Lucette," she tells me. "Your position as crown princess did not give you a choice about providing your own heir one day, and your current…circumstances…hurried the only choice in the matter that you did have. You had to pick a father for your child, and quickly. You did so without a courtship, a grand royal wedding, or even a proper honeymoon."

"Like I told Father," I say, "I preferred a quiet wedding anyway." I actually had had all those things…except for a vacation-like honeymoon…but Waltz only remembers the wedding, and we are actually performing a second 'courtship' now. Perhaps we can have a real honeymoon later, a real vacation once the danger has passed. I sometimes find it a pity that after a wedding as memorable as mine was, that only the two of us have any firsthand knowledge of it.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "I will admit a little disappointment on my part, as well as on Emelaigne's, that we were not able to attend."

 _You were at the first one…._ "Perhaps you can help us celebrate our first anniversary. I am sure it will be more festive than the wedding was," I admit.

"Rod admitted that he had been to funerals that were more festive than your wedding was," Ophelia notes. "But fortunately…you appear to love each other, and that is what matters most."

"That subject is something of a process, actually," I admit, "but yes."

"It is always a process, for any couple," Ophelia says with a smile. "Emotions wax and wane, but it is how you decide to treat each other that is most responsible for how happy the two of you become. The ecstasy of new love eventually fades, and you will still find yourselves sitting across the breakfast table from each other, just living your daily lives without fanfare. It is then that you two will choose to be happy together, or not."

"That actually sounds nice," I say, wondering what life could be like once Waltz and I take care of our most pressing problems, and time returns to normal. A time when worry and stress no longer serves as glue to keep us united, and we can be happy together simply because we choose to do so.

"If even that sounds appealing," she tells me, "you really do love him. It is the best possible thing that could have happened to you." She pauses for a moment. "Your father has such high hopes for you now."

"And they are an improvement over fears that I might become my mother's second coming, I am sure," I admit.

"He still worries about your potential for survival," Ophelia tells me, "as do we all. Not that we talk about it except in private on rare occasion…but how are your efforts going?"

"I think I have about a third of the work done, perhaps a bit more," I say, knowing that at least I am on schedule in making repairs on the Tenebrarum. "I do not believe that I have suffered any permanent damage as of yet."

"That…is good," she says. "And…I also thank you for what you have been doing for Rod as well."

"You realize that getting rid of his curse was an accident, right?" I tell her. "I would have done so on purpose, but it was not intentional at the time."

"I know, and I thank you for that anyway," Ophelia says, "but it is not just that. He is happier when his sister is happy, and he appears to be growing fond of you as well."

"He is getting a bit protective of me, actually," I note with a grin, and Ophelia laughs.

"He was always like that with Emelaigne, despite the fact that she is older…and even myself come to think of it. He was the 'man of the house' for years after his father died, and he took it upon himself to do whatever he could for us," my stepmother admits. "That he is viewing you as someone he wants to protect shows that he is accepting you as family."

"And I hope that nothing dangerous happens when we are together," I admit. "It would probably frustrate him if I was the one doing the protecting, and my abilities…outpace his in that area."

"Hopefully that will not be needful," my stepmother says, and my stomach practically bottoms out, remembering that I am allowing danger to her and the rest of my family by leaving Alcaster unchallenged.

I must be showing something of this on my face, because she gives a slight frown and opens her mouth as if to ask me what is wrong when I hear a knock on the door. "Lucette?" I hear as Father's voice comes through the door. "Are you still here?"

"Come in Father," I call, grateful for the distraction, and he opens the door. He stops for a moment, halfway through the entrance to my room as if surprised to see that he has interrupted a conversation with Ophelia, but then enters and closes the door behind them. "Oh, I should tell you. Lord Decimond told his fiancée what happened. Emelaigne will be back to the palace as soon as she is done consoling her."

"Did she break their engagement?" my father asks.

"Not as of this time," I tell him. "The girl is just unsure of what she wants to do."

"Viorica? Did something happen to her?" Ophelia asks, concerned.

"Either Rod or Emelaigne rescued her from the river the night she fell into it, but ran off to get help. Lord Decimond found her on the side of the river, and Viorica assumed that he had rescued her himself," my father explains to Ophelia. "He has just corrected this mistaken assumption."

"The poor girl must be devastated," Ophelia says. "Her mother told me that Viorica was so excited that Decimond had rescued her, when it happened." Then she frowns. "Emelaigne is not a good swimmer which means…."

"I think that they would prefer you ask them directly about the matter rather than have me tell you about it," I tell them.

"So Rod can refuse to talk about it outright rather than have us figure out what is wrong behind his back," my father deadpans. "It's practically impossible to know how to help the lad when he will not tell us what is going on. You cannot imagine how relieved we all were that you simply broke his curse without giving him a choice in it; that you helped him without waiting for him to ask you. Even if it _was_ unintentional at the time, it was the best thing you could have done for him."

"He is very stubborn," I agree. "Just do not expect either him or Emelaigne to be particularly jovial at supper tonight," I tell him. "And sometimes…there is nothing you can do to help. But you are right…he should at least make you aware of whether you _can_ do anything to help or not." Rod has a very bad habit of not telling people when he _does_ need help. After all, it would have been a simple matter for the king to ask Decimond to delay the wedding until after I had turned eighteen so I could have dispelled Rod's curse, even when my father did not remember me. Rod could have simply said that the new Tenebrarum Bearer was coming of age on my birthday, and had agreed to rid him of his curse if its fulfillment could be delayed long enough to do so. Apparently, that has never occurred to Rod throughout the cycles. Most of the time, he is simply lucky enough that Decimond delays the wedding due to political instability rather than taking the logical action himself by explaining the situation to Father.

My brother just does not think things through, sometimes, and is too stubborn for his own good. I can only hope that he will eventually grow out of that. If I can get these cycles to stop, he will have that chance.

…


	42. Realization, a Disappointment, a Danger

**Chapter 42. A Realization, a Disappointment, an Agreement, and a Danger**

"Well, I've been to more cheerful dinners," Waltz remarks once we return to our room in the Marchen that evening.

"Emelaigne spent about half of it concerned about how her friend Viorica feels," I admit, sitting down on the bed. "This made Rod as quiet as he has ever been since I broke his curse…not that he is particularly loquacious anyway."

"Only your parents even attempted to talk about anything remotely cheerful," my husband tells me, removing his fine 'prince' coat to sit down beside me on the bed next to where I have placed the new clothes I retrieved from my closet in the palace. "And the only 'new' thing we had to talk about is that your nausea has been getting better."

"Which is a relief, in and of itself," I sigh. "It is so much easier to do things when you are not worrying about keeping everything down."

"I don't doubt that," my husband admits.

I allow myself to fall back on the bed, and look up at the ceiling. "I do not feel like doing any repair work tonight, Waltz. Is that wrong?"

"You need a break every now and again," Waltz tells me. "If you are feeling guilty about not being productive, there is always something else to do. For example, we still do not know anything about your copy of the contract, or the gauge."

I nod, thinking. "Parfait said it might be an object instead of a flat document, and that it would have an 'aura of magic.'"

"In theory," Waltz tells me, drawing his long legs up onto the bed to sit beside where I lie, "it should be something you had access to the entire time…or at least, during the cycles in which you were suffering the effects of the contract."

"So…objects that are magical I have run into during the cycles," I say, thinking. "Well…I'm guessing that it is not Sebby." Oddly enough, I do not remember seeing Sebby that often as of late. The stuffed creature still sits on my brother's shoulder on occasion, but is no longer his constant companion. Is it because Rod has found more people to talk to so he does not rely on the stuffed, artificial companion as much?

Waltz shakes his head. "Parfait made that with magic from the Lucis after your brother was cursed."

"I guess we can rule out anything that we know existed before the contract did," I decide. "So obviously, not your Neverland or Tinkerbell, or either Crystallum."

"Not Rumpel's journal," Waltz decides. "He was not cursed until after you were, and that object came about as a direct effect of his curse. What we are looking for had to be created between when Hildyr made her pact, and the first day of the cycle for you to have access to it."

"And it would have to exist in this cycle, as well," I decide. "So…not the glass slippers from my Cinderella curse, and not Mr. Broom."

If it _had_ been Mr. Broom…I think that I would have to break something. Like every single broom in Angielle.

"So what's left?" Waltz asked. "I think that you would have run into it at least once in eleven years."

"I don't know Waltz," I sigh, but it the back of my head…I know that there was something else.

We are both silent for a few moments thinking, and then I feel Waltz startle beside me, and then _I_ startle as his hand comes to my thigh. My initial reaction is confusion as this is not exactly a romantic moment, but what my husband says is, "You aren't wearing it anymore."

"What?" I ask him.

"You…were wearing a weapon of some kind during the last cycle, strapped to your leg," Waltz explains. "After the wedding, when we were alone…I felt something hard on your leg. I asked you what it was, and you said that you had intended to use it to kill Myth if you had had to marry him. And then you removed it, and we got back to…."

"That knife?" I ask, surprised.

"If that is what it was," my husband says. "There was enough light in the room to see, but I could not see it…just feel it…and I think I was too distracted at the time to give it much thought."

 _I think that I would have been offended if he had_ not _been distracted at the time._ "It fades into the background of whatever it is on," I tell him. "I got it from Parfait during the last cycle."

Waltz raises his eyebrows. "Parfait handed you a nearly invisible knife?"

"Not exactly," I say. "I had asked her for a knife, and then I found that one in my room a little later."

"So…there's a chance that it was _not_ from her at all?" Waltz asks.

I am silent for a moment. In theory, it could have lain in my room for my entire stay in the Marchen, unnoticed because its magical attribute was that it was nearly invisible. After spending so many hours cleaning the common areas of the Marchen, I rarely spent any energy cleaning my own room. Now that I think about it, I remember feeling shallow metal grooves on the scabbard, which might indicate writing that can be revealed in some way.

"I think that we need to go talk to Parfait about it," I tell him.

When we find Parfait, she has no knowledge of ever owning a knife like the one I describe, and we decide that it was undoubtedly not from her. In fact, she tells me that if I had asked her for such a thing as a knife, she probably would have given it to one of the knights or Karma first to give to me, and asked them to ensure that I was properly trained in its use. And given that none of them remember the last cycle, we cannot simply ask Jurien about it. I have to admit that it is possible that Garlan, or whoever Parfait had asked to perform the task, may have simply forgotten about it entirely.

And then we start looking for the chameleon knife. We cover Rumpel's room that had once been my own room first, since that is where I found it last time, but the search comes up empty and he denies finding anything of the sort. Waltz and I search our room next, also without results. Parfait casts a spell designed to reveal every magical object in the Marchen, but she does not find the knife either, and my own second sight reveals nothing. I can see magical objects in addition to living creatures with it, but I have no idea if it would work to see an object made by the gods.

If only we did not have to find something that is practically invisible.

…..

"Thank you," Rod tells me.

And I know that he is trying to do anything else, think of anything else.

Rod and I sit on the crate again, watching Waltz and Emelaigne play with the children. I half think Emelaigne joined in the play as much to cheer herself as to give Rod a chance to sit with me. I think she has realized that Rod will talk to me about things he will not address with her. I doubt she minds this that much. As difficult as it is for Rod to talk to anyone at all, she is happy he will talk to _someone_. He tends to isolate himself unnecessarily when confronted with pain, not wanting to burden his family with it. I do not think that he does talk to me sometimes because he wants to share his own burdens with me, but because more often than not I share additional insights with him instead of offering sympathy. Rod does not like people feeling sorry for him, but he can appreciate relevant information.

Viorica had asked Rod and Emelaigne to come down to the toy shop again, which I found sobering as soon as I heard of the request. If she had decided on Rod, she would have wanted to see Rod alone. Viorica would only have requested Emelaigne to come as well only if she had been certain that Rod would need her support after their conversation.

"It was nothing," I tell him, knowing that he is speaking of an earlier incident. We had run into those noblewomen that tend to disparage Ophelia on the way here, and they had been doing exactly that when we had overheard them. What I told them, before Rod or Emelaigne could open their mouths, was that my stepmother possesses a nobility of character that my father apparently had found lacking among women such as themselves that possessed _only_ nobility of blood without any further desirable characteristics whatsoever. Upon recognizing me the two noblewomen turned white, apologized _much_ more profusely than they would normally do for Rod, and had sunk into curtsies more appropriate to scullery maids that had been caught stealing than noblewomen before running away.

Rod, in particular, had found this experience quite satisfying.

"It was not nothing," Rod tells me. "I hear that kind of thing about Mother much more often than I would like. She should not have to put up with it. I try to defend her as much as I can, but when you do it…I think they might listen better."

"Rod, they were probably frightened that I would curse them so they must speak in limericks for the rest of their lives, or some such," I tell him with a small grin.

"Would you?" he asks. "Please?"

I shake my head at him. "I have to be very careful in who I curse, and why. All the other witches will probably take my actions as indications to what I would and would not punish. If I cursed someone for saying something I disagree with…."

"Rampant cursing might be back," Rod admits, and he sighs. "I will not ask you again."

"As it is," I tell my brother, "you will just have to satisfy yourself with the memory of those two practically falling over themselves to get away from us."

Rod nearly snorts a laugh, but it is muted. I sigh, and put up a sound barrier. We can no longer hear the children play, and Rod looks at me. "If you want to talk about Viorica, I have a sound barrier up. I will not pretend that I did not notice that it was a very difficult conversation for you."

Viorica had essentially told Rod that she had decided to remain with Decimond because she respected that he had finally told her the truth, even if he had been 'encouraged' into it, and that she thought that Decimond needed her more than Rod did. Decimond really did not have anyone else, but Rod had a wonderful family that loved him. That…and Decimond was ready to have a family of his own, and it might be a long time before Rod was in the same situation. Viorica wanted a family of her own, too. She said she hoped that Rod would still consider her a friend, but that she would understand if he wanted to avoid her until his heart healed or he had found someone of his own. She did thank him for saving her life that night, which allowed her to meet the love of her life whom she would have never encountered otherwise. Viorica told Rod that she would be forever grateful for both…that he had still made her happy, even if it had not been in the way Rod had intended.

Rod had taken the news with some amount of visible disappointment, but I think the answer gave him some amount of peace as well. And I think I know why.

My brother confirms my theory when he finally says, "Well…at least now, I don't have to worry about what would happen if she knew. I don't have to be distant to protect her from that knowledge."

"You were not just protecting her," I tell him. "You were trying to protect yourself from the pain of wanting what you decided you could not have, and this is why you distanced yourself. She is a nice girl…but she was so set on what she though was meant to be, that she gave no attention to what could already be within her grasp. She needed to have a more mature calculation of the marriage she is about to enter…and she was granted that. As young and inexperienced as she is, this was good for her."

Rod frowns at me for a moment. "Don't tell me that I was too young to love her, if that is what you are going to say next." I assume that he is not pleased that one of her reasons for choosing Decimond was that he was ready for a family, and that Rod at the tender age of sixteen, would not be. It went unsaid, but it was implied that Decimond had a maturity that Rod had yet to reach. I doubt my brother finds this a flattering assessment.

"You…do not believe that you were reckless in what you did?" I ask him, and he tries to open his mouth. "And I do not mean jumping in the water to save her."

"You mean in going to a witch for help, and getting cursed?" he asks me. "How was I supposed to have any idea that she might give me a curse that could have killed me!"

I shake my head. "I meant in asking what you asked for. You asked to become a prince. When this was granted, your actions changed more than your own life. Did you even consider the effects your becoming a prince would have on your mother and sister before you asked that witch to make you into one? The only way you could have become a prince was if your mother married the king. You were not aware that they had been in love at one time." Well, there were actually two ways…but marrying me would not fit into the premise of him trying to use his new status to win another girl.

"Like I told you," Rod admits, "I didn't know that Mother even knew your father."

"So you created a circumstance in which your mother would wed a man you thought she didn't know?" I ask.

Rod sighs. "I…thought that she, or any woman, would want to marry him. He's a benevolent, good king as well as an attractive widower. And Mother had been alone…so I thought she wouldn't mind. I mean, it's every woman's dream, to become queen, right?"

"If she doesn't mind marrying someone she doesn't know to get that crown. There are some women that _would_ marry any man to get it, but your mother is not that type of a woman, and this is why she does not deserve what people like those two noblewomen say about her. If she _had_ been the type of woman to marry a stranger simply to become queen, she would deserve what those two noblewomen were saying, and you would have no right to defend her," I tell him. "And then there are the effects on your sister who was probably more comfortable, if not _necessarily_ happier, as a common girl. She had to adapt to a new role, and was not given a choice in it. It has been more than a year, and she is still having trouble adjusting."

"Fine," Rod admits bitterly. "I didn't really think about how it would affect them at all. I was really only thinking of myself, of how I could win Viorica. I was selfish at that time."

"And love is not selfish. You were too young to love her, if you were primarily thinking of yourself and not considering the effects your actions would have on the people you should care about the most. When you have strong feelings that eclipse your judgement in how you treat your family, that might be infatuation, but not love," I tell him. "You might have grown to actually love her someday…you probably would have…but you did not love her at the time."

Rod breathes out a deep sigh. "And now I know that. You…have an odd way of putting things into perspective."

"People keep telling me that," I admit. "You were desperate; you were in pain when you asked that witch to make you into a prince. You did show yourself unselfish when you refused to tell Viorica what happened in order to shelter her feelings, but she was right when she said that you had chosen what would make her happy for her. If you _had_ loved her, you would have told her the truth of that night, and then let _her_ decide what would make her happy from that point. But to do that, you would have had to swallow your pride. Sometimes, risking your pride by allowing the possibility of outright rejection takes more courage than risking your life."

"And I let fear make the decision for me," Rod admits, grimacing. "And Decimond _did_ manage to swallow his pride and tell her the truth even though it sounds like you made him do it…and most lords have an awful lot of pride to swallow. She probably gave that action some weight when making her decision."

"If you had to do it over again," I ask carefully, "and could just wake up and have it be more than two months ago, before Decimond proposes, would you want me to tell you to tell Viorica the truth before Decimond does?"

My brother leans back against the building from his seat beside me, staring out into space. "Why do you ask?" he finally says. "Is there something magic could do to change things?"

"No magic mortals control can alter time, but please make your decision as if it could," I tell him. "I still want you to answer that question, though I do not need the answer immediately. I want you to be at peace with yourself, if nothing else."

Rod nods, and returns to staring into space, obviously deep in thought. I release the sound barrier as one of the little girls comes up to sit next to me. I listen to her chatter as I braid her hair for her, but my mind is elsewhere as I glance at my brother occasionally. I know that I will not have much time before I have to leave Angielle in the next cycle, assuming that everything goes well. But even if he tells me that he wants another chance with Viorica, would he trust me enough to take my advice before I leave the city? If he does not…it will not matter.

The girl gets down from my lap after I am done with her hair, and she thanks me before returning to play with the other children. I smile at her…and then my vision changes.

I can smell the salt sea air, and I can see the sea from on top of the hewn ledge where I appear to stand. A large, muscular man with dark hair looks me dead in the eyes. "I agree, Fellow Bearer, to meet you at the throne of the gods, and aid you in gaining entry to their city. I will set forth at the start of the next cycle with all reasonable haste, and I will go with you as you petition the gods themselves."

"I accept your pledge," I hear myself saying, and before I can get another word out, the scene fades and I am sitting on a crate in Angielle with Rod once more.

"Lucette? Are you all right?" my brother asks.

I blink and give myself a small shake. "I'm fine. I just zoned out for a moment."

"I'll say you did," Rod tells me. "You went glassy-eyed, and I saw your lips moving but you didn't say anything."

"I was just receiving a message from someone," I tell him.

"Was it good news?" he asks.

I smile. "It was very good news," I tell Rod. Fulgur has agreed to help me, which leaves three more Bearers to go.

"Something magic related, obviously," he guesses, and I nod. "Is it something you need any help with?"

"Yes," I tell him, "though not from you, but thank you for the offer. There are just some things that you are not in a position to give."

My brother grimaces at that, and sighs. "No," he finally says. "My answer to your question is 'no.' I would let Decimond tell her what happened himself, let him have her. Viorica is ready for a part of her life that I am not ready to join her in, and Decimond is."

"You are certain? You would not change a thing?" I ask, giving him the one last chance he has to claim Viorica for his own.

"I would not change a single thing, even if I could," my brother answers.

"That answer shows a fair amount of maturity," I tell him, as I make a mental note to have a conversation with Decimond before I leave Angielle during the next cycle. "One day, when you _are_ ready, you are going to make some lucky young woman very happy."

…

"He's worried about you, you know," my husband tells me as we enter my mother's laboratory once more so I can start my work, several days after my conversation with Rod.

"You will have to be more specific," I tell Waltz. "A fair few people worry about me, or for me." Even Rumpel has been trying to get me to relax more, but there are things that need to be done. Parfait tells me that I do not have to make time to take tea with her as often as I do with as busy of a schedule I keep. I started spending more time with my father going over practicalities of ruling a nation after the interview, but I tell her that I find taking time for tea with her relaxing. And I do…I find it more relaxing than attending court, anyway, and I like having someone that I can talk to for things I do not normally discuss with my husband.

I suppose that I do feel a little worn out tonight. Maybe Rumpel is right. Maybe I should take it easy for a few days, sometime.

"I meant your brother," he clarifies.

I nod. "He tends to get very protective of people he cares about. I must admit…it's nice when he doesn't hate me, for a while before everything starts all over again." And then it will all start over again, and I have to fix my Crystallum before then.

Waltz is silent for a moment as I walk up to the Tenebrarum to start my inspection of it before I begin, and he puts his arms around me from behind me. "I have never intended to deny you anything that you wished of me. You know that, right?"

I nod, and turn to look back up at him. "I know. I also know that there are some things that cannot be rushed. Love is one of them…and it is not right to push someone you love. I could never do that to you. I know that you will tell me that you are in love with me when you decide that you are."

"Thank you," my husband tells me, and then he smiles at me. "I think I have something to talk to you about after you are done here for the night, my beautiful, blazing, shining star."

And that catches every last iota of my attention. He has not called me that since just before I entered the palace during the last cycle. He was in love with me then. "Really?" I ask him, excited.

He continues to smile at me. "I think that I was unable to see the forest for the trees. But if I tell you much more…you would be too pleased to get any work at all done tonight." I open my mouth to ask him to tell me anyway—I can only assume that he is finally going to tell me that he is in love with me and we can have everything he has implied will come with that confession—but he places a finger gently on my lips. "Patience. Just a little more patience."

He removes the finger before I can decide if I want to kiss or bite it. "Fine," I tell him. "I'll just…get to work, then."

After that, I really have no choice but to dwell on one of the most awful cycles I can think of to distract me from what I think my husband is planning for afterwards. Before long, I am reliving the pain of a cycle I experienced with Fritz. Delora, gone…Garlan, gone…Parfait, gone…and Mother…. _Mother…how could you?_

"It's time to go, Lucette," Waltz tells me gently, taking my hand to pull me up into his embrace as he always does.

I want to go, to be enfolded by his warmth, but I find myself still frozen in place…immobilized.

"Lucette?" he asks, now sounding very concerned, sitting down beside me. But…he sounds far away from me when I know that he is beside me.

But I am still frozen in place, and I continue to weep. I see him enter my vision, getting between myself and the glowing Tenebrarum. "Lucette," he repeats. "It's time."

Now, he sounds as if he is speaking to me while I am underwater, and he becomes fuzzy even as he wraps his arms around me. _"I'm in love with you, Lucette…"._

White hot light swallows me, and I find myself unable to move as my magic grows stronger again. And if feels as if something is tickling my mind, trying to grasp me to bring me out of the painful heat. My own mind tries to grasp hold of the whatever is trying to get me out, but it is like trying to hold on to a greased rope…it keeps sliding away. In the light of pain, I see tendrils of a miasma that drift toward me, but I shy away from them knowing what they are. Something in them promise freedom…I will not have to make myself suffer anymore…but I read that freedom as bondage. They seek to control me…taint me.

I would never be the same again.

The tickling in my mind slowly turns into pressure, ever stronger, as something else demands my attention, demands that I return out of the hot pain and away from the miasma. And I want to leave where I am behind, to return out of this harsh fire to the soft warmth that calls me. I am safe in the soft warmth…there I am whole…and I grasp it with all of my mental might. All of a sudden my magic leaves abruptly, the hot white vanishes as I gasp and vision of the physical world returns to my eyes.

The soft light of the Tenebrarum reveals that I am still in my mother's laboratory, but I lie on the cot with something soft under my head and my husband above me. "Waltz!" I breathe, relieved.

"Lucette, thank the gods…" is all he can get out before I reach up to grab him and kiss him, and then the last dam between us proceeds to burst.

"What happened to me?" I ask some time later, once rational thinking has returned. "That was corruption trying to get to me, wasn't it?"

"I don't know how it could have been anything else," Waltz tells me, leaning up on his elbow beside me to look me in the eye. "I can usually distract you before you go too deeply into the pain, before you get to the point that it might tempt you, but this time the usual distractions didn't work to bring you out of it. What did you see?"

Distractions. Holding, kissing, and caressing me did not work this time. So, he had folded what I recognize as the shawl he normally wears at his waist for a pillow for me and lain me down on the cot to take me up on my blanket offer…and _that_ had worked. "I couldn't move," I explain. "I was white-hot…and cold. There was a miasma of some kind there, reaching for me. I got away…I did not accept them."

He grimaces. "That…was corruption for sure…and you did exactly as you should have. You did not allow it to engulf you. It cannot do so without your permission." Then he frowns. "Your mother claimed that she could tell if a witch was corrupted, or not, simply by using her second sight to detect if a witch was engulfed by the miasma."

I shiver. For a moment, I see my mother suffering as she feels the death of yet another witch…perhaps even the death of someone she knows. And in the midst of the pain she sees the tendrils reaching for her. And she knows, that if she gasps them, she can make the deaths stop. She can harm humans if she accepts it…she could finally fight back. She is the Bearer…isn't it her duty to end the suffering of the witches, no matter the cost? She needs to fight, to seek the justice…the vengeance…that the witches are due.

And somehow, I know that this is how she fell.

"This is getting too dangerous," he tells me. "We need to try something else."

"I can't stop working, and we both know it," I insist.

Waltz sighs. "You have to learn how to pace yourself, better. Maybe do two shorter sessions during different times of the day, rather than only the long one in the evening."

"It is worth a try," I say, and then I sigh. Without further distractions, what could have happened comes back to mind. "Thank you," I tell him, doubly glad that Waltz is the one I married. Even Fritz would not have been nearly as good at helping me fight corruption.

"I'm not losing you," he tells me, "to either death, or to corruption. I can't lose you, especially not now."

"At least since I have to repair the Tenebrarum, the good thing about my cycles is that my past pain, anger, and fear feeds it, and it is sufficient so I do not require current sources of it," I reply. It is like digging into scabs and healing scar tissue, but it is still better than having to suffer the same wounds fresh again.

"And it is still very dangerous," he reminds me.

I nod. "I know. And…." I take a deep breath. "And you said that you are in love with me."

"I am in love with you," Waltz repeats, smiling at me.

"It was the first time you've told me that during this cycle!" I say, trying to decide if I am annoyed that it has taken him this long, or overjoyed that he has finally said it. Perhaps I am both. "How long have you loved me?"

"I wish I had an answer for that," he tells me, honest as always. "I've always wanted what was best for you…and then it became obvious that what you needed was me. I had decided that I was going to love you when I found out that we were married—our oaths were already given, so we should enjoy being together—but then somehow you fit yourself into my life as if you had always belonged there in spite of the changes being married to a princess requires. In a way, I have loved you for years…and in another, you didn't become as vital to me as breath until more recently. I was trying so hard to fall in love with you, because I knew that you needed me, that I did not notice when I had succeeded."

"I'll take that answer," I decide.

"When did you know that you were in love with me?" he asks.

Of course he had to ask that. I sigh, thinking. I cannot really say that it was my first cycle with him as my 'partner' because I had felt something similar for four other young men at one time or another. There are feelings that wax and wane, and words that mean nothing until they are acted upon. While cycling, once I figured out that that was what was happening, there was always something in the back of my mind reminding me that my actions may not have any permanent effect. While I developed deep affections for all five of my paramours, there was only one point in time that I finally decided to commit to one of them. What I have to give my husband is the point at which I had decided that I would have no one else…that I would forthwith be his alone.

"It was during the last cycle," I tell him. "It was after an ordinary conversation, and we had had very close to the same talk during cycles before. That time, I said something that made you smile at me. I asked you why, and you said that I had reminded you of someone you had missed for a very long time." I sigh. "You looked both hopeful and sad at the same time. I knew that you meant that I had just reminded you of me, and you were happy that your childhood friend was still there so she might reappear from under the ice I had surrounded myself with.

"It was then that I had realized that in some way, you had always loved me. You treated me as a sister instead of a sweetheart when I was young, which was appropriate considering our ages, but I was not sure if you thought that there might ever be more," I finish.

"I knew that it was a…possibility," Waltz admits. "You would need your own heirs one day, but I was sure your mother would pick your husband for you. Since she had married the king to give both herself and you a legitimate claim to the throne, I knew it unlikely that she would have you marry a human for political power. I would presume her first choice would have been one of her own apprentices, but Myth was corrupted as she wished but failed often enough to vex her, and while I performed as skillfully as she wished I remained uncorrupted. I was not sure for the longest time which of us she found more frustrating."

He is silent for a few minutes. "Actually, during the months she had us separated before erasing your memories of me…she would tell me every time you asked to see me, of how much you missed me. And all I had to do for her to allow me to visit you would be to accept the corruption. She even promised me that if I did, she would allow me to marry you once your turned eighteen. I could see you as often as we wished then, and I would sire her grandchildren. Otherwise…she would erase your memories of me, and eventually give you to another man when you grew up. There was no mention of finding someone else that even cared about you to marry you."

"That…must have been quite the temptation," I admit. "I am glad that you were able to resist it."

"It was," he admits, "if only to spare you from a marriage to someone that you might not even like. But corruption itself had never really tempted me, even while I had faithfully served your mother. It just wasn't there. When I admitted that to her when she had cornered me on the matter, that is when she took your memories from you—and according to her, she denied you to me forever. And that's when I went looking for Parfait."

And we now know that my mother had just been trying to corrupt him by using despair…but Waltz had decided to fight back. My mother had initiated her own defeat in trying to corrupt him, giving Parfait exactly what she needed to defeat her. I find it equally ironic that if she had not made the deal with Chaos, she might have actually succeeded in keeping us separated. Waltz had not _exactly_ been my first choice in romance or friendship; I had thought him a real child for the longest time. "Well," I decide, "that backfired on her then. We got married on one of my eighteenth birthdays, there's a baby on the way… _and_ you did not have to pay the price she wanted you to pay to have me."

My husband gives me a grin and then kisses me. "I am sure she would be horrified."

"Undoubtedly," I tell him, returning his smile, my fingers reaching up to brush his face. "And I have to admit some relief on my part as well. I had been wondering if you might find it necessary to make love to me before you had decided that _you_ were ready for it."

"I didn't intend to give you something else to worry over, Lucette," my husband tells me. "But I am glad that you loved me enough to wait on me. As much as you made it…quite clear…that you loved me, that you wanted me, you never pushed. Not even once."

"I suppose that I was not being very subtle, was I?" I say with a grin.

Waltz laughs at me. "And I think you should be rewarded for your patience. How about tomorrow, you are not allowed to leave our room until after noon?"

"I'm getting rewarded with confinement to my quarters?" I say, still grinning and strongly reminded of when Waltz made me relax after a magic lesson by letting me sit in his lap. I doubt that Rod will walk in on us this time, though. No one disturbs us when my husband and I are in our bedroom at the Marchen. "If you have suitably distracting activities planned for that time, I might have to be patient more often."

…


	43. An Inspection Gone Awry

**Chapter 43. An Inspection Gone Awry**

"I heard about what happened the other day, Lucette," Emelaigne tells me from across the carriage. "That was really brave of you."

"I am not sure that it was particularly brave," I tell my sister. We are riding with Head Clerk Tuttle, who has taken it upon himself to conduct our education in performing inspections, in a nondescript carriage with a few guards 'patrolling' after us. Tuttle is a partially bald man that gives the distinct air of a clerk that is glad for any excuse to get away from his desk for a few hours, as much as he does a compulsion for record keeping. Currently, he hugs a flat, large leather briefcase to his chest while he watches the two of us talk. I suppose he thinks that princesses are very interesting subjects to study, or at least a pleasant change from the office work he is normally confined to.

"But you kept that boy from being cursed!" my sister insists.

Waltz and I had been out on a walk, wearing illusions as not to be recognized, when we practically stumbled over a curse in progress. Some young lad had accidently run into a witch, knocking her over into a mud puddle, and she had been preparing to curse him for it. I had put a stop to it before the curse could happen, to sort the matter out, and Waltz had told me that this particular witch may not be the one responsible for the worst curses he had seen walk through the doors of the Marchen…but she was one of the most prolific cursers and needed the least reason to do so.

Naturally, I had dismissed my disguise and given her a curse that carried the condition of her learning to control her temper, and her own condition would only grow worse if she tried to curse anyone that was not purposefully trying to physically harm her. She would literally fall apart more often. She had run off, reattaching her arm back into its socket. The fall-apart-at-the-joints curse is not exactly physically painful…but it is a great annoyance when you are trying to eat and your fingers keep falling into your plate, or your soup for that matter. She will have lots of practice in learning to control her temper.

I just shrug at my sister's comment. "I just happened to be there at the right time." And Father had put out a statement saying that when reasonably possible, I should be notified of witches that were accused of wrongdoing so I could deal with the matter myself. Parfait told me this morning at breakfast that both the witches and humans were breathing a sigh of relief at this. The witches thought that their own Bearer would at least hear them out before sentencing them, and the humans were relieved that there was now someone that could reign the witches in without danger to the humans around them.

Of course…now that means that I will probably start getting requests to 'deal with' witches humans find suspicious for some reason or another, whether or not they have actually done anything to warrant it. Everything has its price.

"It's a pity that that other clerk got sick so suddenly," Emelaigne continues. "Well, I suppose that chose our inspection route for us. I do hope he will be alright. He seemed _awfully_ upset that he had to go to the physician instead of work today."

"I am sure that he is in no danger from his illness," I say, guessing that the man may be in danger of several other things in a few days when the spell fades. I had asked the maid with the freest tongue I could find what the reputations of the different clerks that worked in the inspector's office were. I told her that Emelaigne was coming with me on an inspection tour, and that I wanted to keep her away from any clerk that was too slick…any especially bad womanizers. The maid had immediately given me a name, and then gone on to list the lack of virtues this particular inspector had, and when she mentioned that the man spent more than she thought a clerk could honestly make on loose women, I knew that I had found an official that someone was bribing.

When Emelaigne and I were introduced to the assistants under Head Clerk Tuttle, I had identified the man from among them and quietly and quickly cast a spell that produced enlarged red bumps the size of eggs under his skin…like the ones that appear as a symptom of the plague. The man had been escorted to the infirmary without delay, and I am certain that as soon as the palace physician sees him he will be put under quarantine whether the clerk is willing to go into it or not.

In short…he has no way to warn the people that are bribing him that he is not the one coming today.

"So…what will we be doing?" Emelaigne says, turning to address Clerk Tuttle.

"Looking over records, Your Highness," he says. "I have copies of what their records _should_ say, and then we match them against what is actually on their books. We also inspect the contents of some of the crates, to ensure that nothing is missing or in the wrong place. Then we look around for any other…irregularities. I actually suspect that there might be something to find with the warehouse we are going to, Princess. The inspector we are replacing today has been getting…sloppy as of late."

"How long has he been feeling ill?" my sister asks. Of course she would immediately assume that the man had been becoming lax due to a physical inability.

"This morning was actually the first time I received any indication that anything was physically wrong with the man," Tuttle admits. "I had been considering replacing him, however I have only suspicions but not proof of…errors."

Emelaigne opens her mouth to protest firing a sick man, but I override her. "It is best to see the quality of his work, or the lack thereof, Emelaigne. He might be better suited for something else." _Like a prison term, if there is proof that the man is accepting bribes._

My sister shuts her mouth, nods, and sighs. "I suppose so," she finally decides. "Still…it's a pity Rod and Waltz are not here today."

"Perhaps they thought that such an outing would bore them," I suggest, knowing that Rod is outside town on a hunting lesson, and Waltz has shrunk himself and climbed into my belt pouch as he is unable to leave me alone if there is even the _potential_ for trouble. If all goes well, Waltz will remain bored and Rod will be able to shoot the broadside of a barn from horseback by sundown. As it is currently just about mid-morning, he will have plenty of time to learn to do so…but I know that my brother has a lot of trouble handling _any_ sort of weapon.

I find it a little odd to have my husband shrunk into the size of a doll, hiding in my belt pouch. He can make himself even smaller than Delora can, and I will have to find some way to tease him about it later tonight.

Of course, since the night Waltz admitted that he was in love with me, he has a different reaction to my teasing than merely blushing. Now, he grins at me even as he blushes, and asks me if I am making an observation or extending an invitation. My answer decides if he teases me back, or if he finds someplace private where he can make us both very happy. He is starting to blush less, but I can hardly make myself care. I married a wonderful man. And during a relatively recent conversation with Rod, my brother appeared rather satisfied when I told him that my husband had finally admitted to me that he was in love with me. Though Waltz hasn't exactly said it outright, I can only assume that Rod _had_ talked to him and either told him that I needed to hear that Waltz was in love with me, talked Waltz into realizing that he was already in love with me, or most probably both.

I have a wonderful brother, too.

It is not much longer before we arrive at our destination, a large, non-descriptive building convenient to several of the main roads at the edge of town. When we enter the building with Tuttle and our guards, the warehouse manager turns pale as Tuttle explains that we will be doing the inspection instead of the man that has suddenly taken ill. He wipes his hands on his pants as if they have become suddenly quite sweaty, and mops his head with a handkerchief. This man is very nervous, and is not doing a good job of hiding it. He also glances at me much more than necessary, and then around as if afraid of someone seeing him. I cannot help but think that there is something he wants to tell me.

We get started with the books in a small office first, and Tuttle points out the irregularities he finds and shows them to Emelaigne with me looking over her shoulder. Some of the intakes and outputs from the warehouse differ in their numbers. For example, what shows as a '7' on our sheets shows a '1' on theirs. Tuttle confiscates the books for further investigation. The manager offers no explanation for this, but as we are about to leave the office before I can follow the rest of my party out of the room, he asks me in a whisper, "Princess…are you able to find people with magic? If I gave you a name or an article of someone's, would you be able to locate that person?"

And I know that this is more than a case of some simple pilfering and 'editing' of documents. This man is acting under duress. I think back, trying to remember what my husband has said about spells to locate people…and I only remember one to find someone I have 'tagged' with a particular spell. "My husband might," I tell him. After all, Waltz is much more trained than I. There is only so much he can fit inside my head in a matter of months.

Something that approaches hope flashes behind his eyes. "If you can find my daughter…I'll tell you anything you want to know once I know she is safe. And just so you know…it might get dicey here today, Princess. _I'm_ supposed to leave here in another half hour."

 _This is certainly not simple theft._

I slowly nod, certain that Waltz is now fully alert, and then catch up to the rest of my party as if nothing happened. From there, we move to the actual wooden crates on the rows of shelving. I tell Emelaigne to pick a few that have less dust than the crates around them, or crates with subtle marks as I magically produce a light bright enough for her to find them. The first one I have a guard open contains the blankets as listed, but there are not enough of them to satisfy either the real or edited documentation. The second box contains the proper items in the correct amount, but the third box is empty. The fourth box is even worse…it holds an assortment of mismatched silver candlesticks and other objects of valuable metal craftsmanship.

"Theft from the Crown _and_ a stolen property repository!" I say, holding one up to my light to examine it. I guess that the only reason these have not been melted down into untraceable metal silver bars is that they are worth more as craftsmanship than merely metal. Tuttle scribbles frantically in a book of some kind, Emelaigne looks at me with wide eyes, and the manager wipes sweat off of his brow still explaining nothing.

Disgusted, I take up my second sight to look around. I use it to see other living creatures not objects, but sometimes magical objects might show up as well. I notice several people in the back outside in a small group that I assume to be warehouse workers taking an early lunch, but when I look down….

There are about a dozen yellow people in a relatively small cluster, with another larger one sitting to the side several feet away. The statures of the clustered people are slight…slender. Women, or perhaps children? With one man to watch them?

And an alarm immediately goes off in my head. Surely not on top of everything else…but he has implied that his daughter is being held somewhere. And I have to know exactly how bad this really is, and the only question in my mind is if these people are being held for ransom if they are children, or if they are women being held to be sold as slaves. Both kidnapping and slavery are _extremely_ illegal in Angielle…but 'illegal' does not mean that a thing never happens. Criminals who think they can get away with anything never give notice to the designation 'illegal.' "How do you get into the basement?" I ask the manager.

"What basement, Your Highness?" he asks me, confused.

"There are humans down there…women or perhaps children, I think, with a guard," I tell him severely. "Now, how do you get down there?"

"I…I… _right here in my own warehouse?!_ " the manager says incredulously. "Are they keeping her _here_ under my very nose!"

"I say we find out," I breathe, and I turn to Tuttle. "Are these warehouses supposed to have basements or cellars? How do you get into them?"

"They were not built that way Princess," the clerk tells me, worried. "But that does not mean that a cellar could not have been put in later.

I turn to Emelaigne. "If you wish, I will send you home now through a portal. We will be finding nothing pleasant." I had intended to show her the naiveté of blind trust, but this might venture into the realm of the depths of human depravity.

My sister is turning slightly pale. "But…but if there are people to be rescued, we ought to do it."

I nod. "I intend to. That does not mean that you have to stay."

Emelaigne sets her jaw, stubbornly. "I'm staying," she says in a voice I recognize as someone trying to convince themselves that they can be braver than they feel.

I nod, and give my belt pouch a little poke as I say, "Then, let's look for the way in."

I feel Waltz cast a spell from inside the pouch, which results in a little trail of small lights that I follow behind the shelving to a small walk space. The trail leads under the shelving. I guess that there is a mechanism somewhere that opens the door down, but I just magically rip it up completely to reveal wooden steps that go down into the ground, and make a glowing ball of light to illuminate the path down. One of the guards insists on going down ahead of me, and I look again at the location where the people are. The large figure is moving around, and the shorter ones are up from the ground and standing what I guess is as far away from him as possible. The large figure moves with his arms as if hefting something heavy, like a weapon. They have heard someone coming. I guess the people that normally come here do not announce themselves by ripping the door apart.

Out of consideration for my own guard in front of me, I cast a spell that freezes the large figure in place before we get to the wooden door at the end of the short tunnel. "I think I got him," I tell my guard, who nods, and then gets out of the way when I motion him aside to rip open the locked door.

I follow my guard through the door, and see exactly what I was hoping not to see. An area smaller than the common room of the Marchen is halved with bars like a prison cell. On the side I stand is a burly man with a mace, frozen by my spell, and on the other side of the bars are about a dozen women…and young ones. I look at the frightened faces, and judge none of them to be older than twenty-five. The youngest, a girl in the corner shielded by the others, cannot be more than fourteen. All of them are at least fairly attractive, or would be if given some soap and water.

And my blood boils.

I hardly notices as the extra magic I get from my rage goes into the spell I am using to light my way until it is bright enough that even my guard shields away from it before I make adjustments. Instead, I use the extra energy to rip the door off of the cell, and crumple the iron bars of it like paper as I throw it into the corner of the room beside the guard's bed. The red hot metal of the cell door smolders with my anger. I do not even want to think….

"I am not going to hurt you, or allow them to do so anymore. You can come out now," I tell the trembling women.

They glance at each other, and a few of them nod slowly. Then they start coming out through the opening where the door once was. One girl is still huddled, sitting on the floor. One of the older women whispers something to her, but I only catch 'witch…bound to her word' before the girl nods and comes to stand with the others outside of the cell.

"What…what…" I hear my sister whisper from behind me, just before the manager runs past her, to pick the youngest girl up in a hug before he starts crying.

"Father!" the girl cries, as tears start running down her face as well.

I only watch them reunite for a moment, before one of the women addresses me. "You Highness, thank you on behalf of all of us," one woman says, and I turn to face her. Large brown eyes show no fear as she addresses me, and I can tell that it is because she is a woman who believes that she has already faced her greatest fear. "The rest of us did what we had to in order to protect the child. Please see that she is not deprived of her father."

I nod. "He appeared to have no knowledge that anyone was being kept here. I do not have the ability to pardon anyone unless my father's health is in jeopardy, but I will certainly speak to him about it."

"Princess," I hear, and I turn around to see one of my guards addressing me. "There is something going on upstairs. There are armed men walking through the door. I think Tuttle was going to try to delay them…but there appears to be more of them than us. They are in front of the only way out…unless you care to make a hole in the wall to get yourself and the women out. We can hold them off while you do so, Your Highness."

"Some of us were to be sold today," one of the women says. "The guard was laughing about it. If both our captors and our buyers are up there right now…."

And anger burns again before I can soften the light I am holding. "I have _never_ wanted to turn men into swine more than I do right now!" I bite. But I know that it is my father's justice that they should face, since I am here on the Crown's behalf, instead of the justice of the Tenebrarum Bearer. But that does not mean that I can use no spells at all. "It will be less bloody if I take care of it," I practically snarl as I walk past the guard.

"But Princess…" he tries to protest.

I put on an illusion that makes me look brunette, about ten years older, and gives me the uniform common to female clerks. "I am a witch, and a powerful one. My sister is the one that is defenseless. Stay with her," I say, giving Emelaigne a look that should pin her to the floor right where she stands. "I want a clear field for when I have to start casting more spells; I want no one in my way."

Emelaigne nods, and plants her feet right where she is as I go upstairs. When I turn the corner, I look to see Tuttle by himself in front of about eight or nine armed men, and the situation appears to be growing tense.

"I have yet to see your paperwork, gentlemen, that allow you to be in the king's warehouse since you do not appear to be employed here," he is trying to tell the men who appear to be aggravated by this response.

"If you think you can stand in our way, little man, you have another thing coming," a burly man says, flexing his muscles, and easing the axe in his belt. I have the heavy impression that this man thinks with his muscles instead of his brain.

A smaller man in a fine coat at the head of the group makes a somewhat placating gesture. "Now, we had an agreement with the regular inspector…."

"That suddenly took sick this morning," I coo, deciding on a tactic.

The men startle, turning to see me coming around a corner. "Madame…?" the one in the fine coat says.

"Madame Renita," I say, making up a name while I go to stand beside Tuttle. I spare the real clerk no more than a glance, knowing that he recognizes my voice and hoping that he will play along with whatever I say or do. "I'm afraid the regular inspector is under quarantine at this time. With his symptoms, I hope he was not…close to any of you?"

"Merely a business relationship, Madame," fine coat tells me.

"So you are in need of new arrangements," I tell him.

Fine coat seems to relax a little, and tension in the group lifts slightly. I have just suggested that we can be bribed. Inspectors can be killed, of course, but then they would have to relocate their operations. The guards investigating such things could easily find our scheduled rounds for the day, and then thoroughly investigate every place on the list. It is much easier just to bribe the inspector away than to kill one. "You understand Madame," fine coat tells me, "this is not our…facility. We are just here to shop."

"Will you tell me who _does_ owe us payment then?" I ask. "It was perfectly obvious to me that my…predecessor…was being compensated, though not by whom. And they are running up a large bill that only gets more extravagant as I look around."

"Typically," fine coat says, "your sort is paid to _not_ look around."

"But I have to know the price I should ask for," I explain. "The more risk there is should facts slip into the wrong ear, the more I should be paid for that risk."

Before he can respond to that, a second group of men walk in. But these are in the uniform and armor of the city watch. Their leader, a captain, sees Tuttle and I, and pauses. "Your old, amiable, inspector has suddenly taken ill, and these are his replacements," fine coat explains without further introduction. Obviously, the captain and fine coat are well acquainted; they have conducted 'business' before.

The captain grunts. "And how amiable are these?"

"I am unsure of the man, he keeps asking for paperwork," fine coat admits. "The woman has done enough nosing around that she believes purchasing her services will be expensive."

"So, are you the one that will be owing me coin?" I say to the captain. What I want to know is if he is in charge, or merely another wheel in the clock.

"If we come to terms, I will be the one bringing you the coin," he says suspiciously. But he does not believe himself in danger, yet. Suggesting that I can be bought makes him feel less threatened. "How exactly did you know that there was coin to be had here?"

"When the maids start gossiping about an inspector spending more than he should make on 'entertainment' alone, who would not think that the man was being bribed?" I ask. Then I stop, and consider. "If anything, the most concerning thing about following in the man's footsteps is the possibility that someone else may have noticed how sloppy he was, and decided to investigate it a little."

The captain appears to relax a little more. "You have a brain, _and_ are amenable to coin. Do not worry about the guard interfering. Our commander is very understanding, himself. Now, the way this works is that you leave pretending that everything is in order, we conduct our business, and then we pay you your 'fee' when you come back after hours today."

And I need to know if these men are slavers, or just after stolen goods for certain. Buying girls and purchasing stolen candlesticks are not considered equivalent infractions under the law. "And what is the current price of girls? Penalties for such things are harsh in Angielle, and I want to be adequately compensated." And I put up a shield like a bubble around myself and Tuttle as a precaution, and I feel my husband putting up a larger one that will keep the men from escaping me. They are trapped between two shields, and they do not know it. And I feel a flash of affection for my husband; he is ensuring that my enemies do not escape me. I married a very sweet man. _And some women are pleased if their husbands bring them flowers…._

Fine coat and the captain look at each other. "No one was supposed to know," fine coat says to the captain. "You said that only someone with magic could find…."

And I hear something clank on my shield, just as Tuttle tries to get around me to get between me and the corrupt guards behind me before realizing that there is a hardened layer of air between us and them. I turn around to look and see that the captain has drawn his sword, and tried to run me through with it. Now, he stands before me, eyes wide in horror as he realizes that his sword will not move an inch closer to me no matter how hard he tries. "What? You mean that you did not expect to meet a witch today?" I say with a predatory smile as I mentally make a note to tell Father to give Tuttle a pay increase.

"Witch!" someone yells, and the men try to run away all at once only to crash into my husband's shield. One by one I freeze them, and movement ceases. When the last is bound, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I drop my illusion and shield, and Waltz drops his shield as well. "Everyone can come out now," I say loudly, and my few token guards, the women, and my sister make their way into the room. The women still huddle together, some blinking at the light of the sun coming through the window for perhaps the first time in I do not want to know how long. Emelaigne is still pale, and goes to sit on one of the crates holding her head in her hands as if she feels ill. The soldiers appear particularly disturbed as they notice their own 'comrades' among those I have captured. I pick out the ranking lieutenant in my guard.

"Who in the guard is responsible for this sector?" I ask, knowing that it is probably the 'amiable' commander. The lieutenant's mouth twists as he names the man, and it is a name I recognize off of Fritz's list. I am not surprised. A commander willing to betray the king would probably also take bribes himself…and I do not discount the possibility that Alcaster himself may have his hand in this. It is not impossible that he has found himself in want of coin, and has stooped to illegal means to get it. "And who is his superior?" I ask next.

"Sir Willard, Princess," my guard says.

 _Sir Willard? Good…this is good._ "Get him," I command. "Explain the situation, and tell him to come here with however many guardsmen or other resources he needs to clean up this appalling mess."

"I'll ride back to the palace and do so at once Princess! We should be back in about an hour," he promises.

I sigh, and open a portal of light. "Try half an hour," I tell the man. "This will take you directly to the palace stable. It is perfectly safe."

After he goes through the portal, I direct the young women to sit in the warehouse area so they will not feel confined as we wait. Tuttle gets out his clipboard from his briefcase after I thank him, and starts taking statements from the girls looking a little dazed himself. I direct my remaining guards to retrieve the frozen guard from downstairs, and one by one I defrost the spells so my guards can disarm and conventionally tie up the criminals which are moved to the side of the warehouse opposite the women. The last one I defrost, the large and stupid one that tried to threaten Tuttle before I intervened, tries to struggle…until my guard mentions that I was saying that I wanted to turn them into swine. From that point on, all the prisoners sit very quietly and do not dare to even _look_ in my direction. The guard captain appears especially disturbed, and I know why. For trying to run a princess through with a sword, he faces the hangman's noose during his court martial. The officers serving as judges will give little consideration for the defense that he did not know who I was when he tried to kill me for potentially getting in the way of him selling girls into slavery.

The criminals' coin is also removed, in addition to the weapons. There is quite a lot of it, as I suspect this is what they were intending to purchase the girls with. Once everything has been documented, the property the criminals currently carry will be sold if it is not recognized as stolen once their trials have been conducted, and it will be distributed among their identified victims. Looking at the pile of weapons and coin, I guess that even divided by twelve, the girls should want for nothing for a year or those that want to learn a trade will be able to pay their own apprentice price for their education. It will not compensate what they endured at their captor's hands, but it should help them start new lives if that is what they want. If time did not keep restarting, anyway. I put the guard that insisted on going in front of me in charge of the pile, while the others keep watch over the now quiet criminals and the door.

When this is done, I look around for Emelaigne and find her still sitting on a crate in a corner. Her shoulders are slumped, and she is staring at the floor. When I come close to her, she says, "Lucette…tell me those girls were meant for some other fate than…." My sister trails off, not even able to say it.

I shake my head, and she sighs. "You will not tell me any comfortable lies, will you?" my sister says.

"No," I tell her, and then I sigh. I give her half-truths instead, just like the rest of my family. But in this case, I can actually tell her the entire truth. "Further south in other nations populated by darker skinned peoples, girls with fair skin and fair hair are considered…exotic. Slavery, or even buying a 'wife' is not illegal, and wealthy men might even have a haram. There are traffickers that 'obtain' women to sell from the northern nations, and I cannot imagine that the lives of the stolen women are anything but dismal. But we did rescue them. They are safe now."

" _You_ rescued them," Emelaigne corrects. "You found them, you got into the entrance, you froze the guard, you captured the men trying to buy and sell them, and some of them were of the city watch!"

"You cannot automatically assume that because someone wears a certain uniform that they are trustworthy," I tell her, "nor do you assume that they are untrustworthy because of their clothing. There are both would-be heroes and would-be villains in every walk of life, in every occupation. I assume nothing."

My sister scrubs at her eyes, as if refusing to cry when I have not shed a tear. And it is then that I notice just how much she is taking cues for behavior from me…like a younger sister trying to copy her older sister. For some reason the image of a young girl trying on her older sister's high heels and attempting, with limited success, to balance as she walks in them comes to mind. "That complicates things," she whispers, her eyes drifting over to the men that are now being held. "I just cannot believe that there are people so…evil out there."

"You mean that you do not _want_ to believe it," I correct her. "Reality does not become something else because you refuse to accept it. All you can do is try to change it for the better."

"And you did that today," my sister whispers, and then she looks at the floor again. "Is that why you are so worried when I sneak out of the palace with only Rod with me? You accept that there are evil men like the ones over there, and want me protected from the likes of them?"

I nod. "A princess is a most valuable asset for ransom, so you would be unlikely to be used for the purposes they were intending for the others, had they captured you one day. Father would have paid more for you than anyone else, and it is money they want."

"I wasn't always a princess," Emelaigne murmurs. "I could have been caught by those men, and faced the same fate as they have been giving to other girls. I could have ended up in some wretched old man's harem as a slave wife."

"True enough," I tell her, "but you are a princess _now._ Father adopted you when he married your mother, and that makes you a princess." I pause for a moment. "Emelaigne…if you ever _are_ taken as a captive, how you will need to behave depends on what your captors want. If all they want is money, be cooperative and only remind them that Father will pay handsomely for you to be returned unharmed to him. It might not hurt to say that _I_ might do something nasty to them if you are harmed, or if they take too long to return you. Even those that laugh at the wrath of a king might not laugh at the wrath of the Tenebrarum Bearer." After all, the king might only kill them; I could do worse if I wished.

"And if they want something else?" Emelaigne asks. "In my history lessons, we covered when a king's children had been held hostage by his enemies, and both the king and kingdom were destroyed when the king gave into the demands of his enemies."

"That's the sticky part about being a princess, or a monarch for that matter," I tell her. "Sometimes you cannot live for yourself. Sometimes you have to think about what would be best for your nation. A common example is when a prince or princess marries to form marriage alliances, either as an end to or a prevention of war with another nation, or to strengthen the power of the monarch inside the given nation. A more distasteful variant of this is when a stronger nation might demand a weaker one to 'give' a child of the king in marriage as a means of exerting their own power, and the 'given' one is essentially a glorified hostage from a vassal nation. Sometimes, hostages are taken by force rather than with a veneer of 'mutual benefit,' and in these situations escape can and should be sought." My mind rolls back to when, at Emelaigne's ball when I was with Rod, Alcaster tried to hold my sister hostage with the crown as his price of ransom. "A hostage has to be both in hand _and_ alive to be of use. In that situation, it is advisable to take any risk that gives a plausible chance to get away, otherwise you are only a tool of the enemy."

"You mean that there are situations in which it would be better to be dead than a hostage in the hand of an enemy; a tool that can be used against Angielle." My sister shakes her head at me. "I think we will never have to worry about anyone taking _you_ hostage, unless there is a way to restrain your magic. You could just make one of your holes in the air and jump right through."

"And they would have to get through my husband first," I tell her with a small smile, and I can almost see my husband grinning from his place in my belt pouch. As if anyone would lay a finger on me with him there to protect me. He knows that I know that he would do anything to protect me.

"I doubt he would be amiable to allowing you to be carried away," Emelaigne says wryly before she sighs. "And…I have no one like that myself."

And I know that she is thinking of Fritz. "You will one day," I tell her. "Perhaps not one as…versatile…as my husband, but perhaps one that is as devoted to you as my husband is to me." And in my mind, she deserves nothing less.

The sound of a great deal of horses grabs my attention, and it is only minutes before the warehouse is swarming with guards that are taking the prisoners into custody, searching for more stolen goods, or helping Clerk Tuttle take the remaining statements from the girls.

There are also about a half dozen priests. "What are they doing here?" Emelaigne asks me in a hushed voice.

"They will provide shelter for the girls without homes or that do not wish to return to them, and transport to other places should they be from afar once their testimonies have been obtained, Your Highness," I hear, and I turn around to see Sir Willard addressing us.

It has been some time since I have last seen him, with a glazed look in his steely grey eyes as he guarded the gate when I entered the palace during the last cycle. I remember that he was among the knights that Myth had to use a spell to control, that he had not joined Alcaster willingly, and a sharpness in those eyes that meant that he had been trying to fight that spell.

That same sharpness is back full-force as he looks at me even though he offers a bow to the two of us, and I nod. "Sir Willard," I tell him, "I am pleased to see you."

"I wish it would have been under more pleasant circumstances, Your Highness," the greying but still sturdy knight tells me.

"But the more unpleasant the circumstances, the happier I imagine I would be to see you," I tell him, and this earns the barest trace of a smile from the man. I am not known for giving complements, so they mean more when I do give one. "I presume he told you of everything of import already, or do you need some clarification on some of the matters?" I say, gesturing to the lieutenant standing behind him that I had sent to him.

Sir Willard nods. "I believe that I have the basics Your Highness, but once things are dealt with here, there is a great deal of documentation to do."

"Clerk Tuttle has been keeping notes," I tell him. "That should help with the rest of the investigation. The warehouse manager had given me his word that he would be very cooperative if his daughter's safety was ensured, and she was among the girls rescued." I gesture to a space near the wall where the manager is talking quietly to his daughter.

Sir Willard frowns. "He did not know of the captives, then?"

"He seemed genuinely shocked to find that there were any captives at all," I tell him. "Obviously, he knew of some illegal dealings, but I am guessing his knowledge was restricted to stolen or contraband objects instead of persons and they had kidnapped his daughter to keep him quiet concerning the illegal activity he _was_ aware of. If he knew that members of the city watch were involved with the criminals, it is plausible that he did not know who to report matters to."

Sir Willard nods slowly. "House arrest then with a guard stationed with him, until the courts have this mess sorted. It is possible he was acting under duress the entire time."

I nod. His daughter likely needs him very much right now, even given that the other girls had done what they could to protect her, and house arrest would not deprive her of him. There is the added bonus that the guard stationed with him might deter the criminal's cohorts that might come seeking to silence him, or simply for revenge.

After he goes about his duties, I turn to look at the priests, and one pair has a grey robed neophyte that is gesturing towards me eagerly. He tries to be trying to convince both the Order and Chaos priests near him, perhaps the same two that serve as his mentors until he must choose between Order and Chaos, that he should approach me. _What in the world…._

"Excuse me for a moment, Emelaigne," I say, leaving my sister siting on her crate while I walk about halfway to where the increasingly frantic neophyte is still trying to convince the priests of something. When the Order priest turns and sees me looking in their direction, I crook my finger to tell them to approach. The Order priest lays his hand on the arm of his Chaos colleague who is still lecturing the neophyte, who then turns around to see me waiting for them. The Chaos priest pauses, nods, and then the three of them approach me.

The two priests bow before me while the neophyte kneels, all murmuring, "Your Highness," and I put up a sound barrier around us just in case. "It appears that your neophyte wishes to address me," I say, looking at the young man that appears to be practically quivering.

"Forgive us, Princess," the Order priest says. "He was just put into robes and assigned to us last week. And he insists…."

"He insists that a god appeared in a cloud before him, and gave him a message to give to you!" the Chaos priest says disbelievingly, but my heart leaps. "The effrontery, that he would even say such a thing before his vows are even given, and when no priest has heard directly from either god in centuries! You have our apologies for wasting your time, Your Highness."

"Did the message concern my search for something?" I ask since that is what I am most currently concerned with, and the two priests freeze and look at each other.

"Yes," the Order priest says slowly, "but the manner he describes is impossible…."

"With as many 'impossible' things as I have seen occur, that does not concern me," I say. "Allow the boy to speak what he was given to speak. You are in no position to deny him permission to proceed in his task…unless you are choosing to ignore the will of Chaos."

"How…did you know that the message was supposedly from Chaos, Princess?" the Order priests asks me.

I look at the man as if he had just asked me how I know that the sky is blue. "Am I a witch, or a fairy? Which god would be more likely to communicate with me?"

The two priests look at each other once more before turning to the quivering neophyte. "You are given leave to speak to Her Highness," the Chaos priest finally says.

"Yes…Princess…Bearer of the Tenebrarum…" the young man says shakily, still on his knees before me. "I…I was commanded to tell you that your gauge and copy of the contract are inscribed upon the same item, that it was also give to you as a gage as pledge that wounds can be mended by mending wounds so history does not repeat itself. I am also to say that it is exactly where you left it."

My eyes grow large. Keep history from repeating itself? Did Chaos mean a stop to the cycles, or perhaps even a way to keep the Great War from happening again? Who's wounds? 'Wounds mended by mending wounds?' There are so many wounds, and that has the sound of a riddle. But what concerns me most right now is…. "Where I left it?!"

The young man gulps. "He says that it is right where you left it on your eighteenth birthday on the night of your first wedding."

And then I know. The knife is in the room in the palace where Waltz and I spent our wedding night, near the side of the bed where I dropped it. And I cannot help but smile. "Thank you very much. You have been a great help."

"But Your Highness," the Order priest says, "you do not turn eighteen for several months, so how could you have left anything somewhere in the future! And you are married right now, so how could you have a first wedding later!"

"That is immaterial," I tell them. _I suppose that time would be as immaterial for the knife as it is for me; neither of us were reset with time at the start of this cycle! I do not know why I did not think of this sooner!_

"But this does not make any sense! And after all this time, to speak to and through a _neophyte_ and to a…" the Chaos priest trails off before he can finish the sentence, and I do not know what word he was going to use to describe me. 'Princess,' maybe. 'Bearer?' 'Witch' even?

"But it makes perfect sense to me. If Chaos did not bother to explain it to you, I can only assume that he has a good reason for not telling you, or else perhaps it simply amuses him to confuse you. Either way, I have no intention of going against his wishes by explaining. And I am beginning to think that you do not know your god very well," I tell the black clad priest. "Of _course_ he would use the newest neophyte to pass messages, as this would cause the most confusion, or perhaps he finds this neophyte worthier of his attention than the senior priests that attempt to serve him. I am honestly not sure why you did not choose white, given that you are reacting to the actions of Chaos in this manner."

The Chaos priest opens and closes his mouth silently, in a state of shock. Not many people suggest to a Chaos priest that he is behaving like a priest of Order, or imply that their god found a worthier servant in a neophyte than in all the ranks of the priesthood.

"There is one other thing, Your Highness," the neophyte says. "Chaos…just said that fair is fair. He agreed to allow Order to use you to give the Lucis Bearer a message from him the evening of your second wedding a couple of months ago, so it was fair for you to receive a message as well."

"Well, that explains that, then," I muse, finally knowing how what I had told Parfait had come out of my mouth. I should probably tell her about it again…or at least, tell her who that message was really from.

"Your _second_ wedding, Your Highness?" the Order priest says, confused. "And _Order_ spoke through _you_?!"

I shrug. "As far as I am concerned, the gods will do as they will when they choose their mouthpieces. If Order wanted to speak through me, and Chaos allowed it given that I am more linked to him than I am Order, that is their business. I have no intention of trying to dictate to the gods what they must and must not do. I might make requests, but I recognize that I am not in a position to dictate their will to them, or call anything they have done 'wrong.' Anyone that tries to do so does not serve them; but makes himself his own god by trying to control a real god, becoming worthy of the title 'apostate.'"

 _And why does this statement turn their faces white?_ I eye the two priests that now look pale, but the neophyte glances back and forth between them, as if confused by their reactions. The men remain speechless, and I answer the rest of their question.

"As to the mention of a second wedding in the past and the first in the future, I do not see that it matters; I married the same man both in the past future and the present past," I say, as if it is nothing to be concerned over, that I am use to such events to a point that impossible things happening do not warrant that much consideration. I can feel my husband shaking with silent laughter from within my belt pouch. "But that is no concern of yours. The important thing is that now I can find the invisible instructions telling me what impossible thing it is that I must do."

The Chaos priest now has a dazed look on his face. "Princess," he says quietly, "I am now certain that you are touched by Chaos, yourself. Were you not a witch and were requesting to become a neophyte, we would have put you in black as soon as you opened your mouth."

I shrug. "If you have barred witches or fairies from formal service to the gods, I see no reason we cannot serve informally. Perhaps the gods themselves have an opinion on that," I say, but then the two priests exchange glances, looking even more troubled. I note this, assuming something significant has passed between the witches and priests, and make a note to ask Parfait about it later. "At any rate, if I had some connection with Chaos, why would that surprise you? The Tenebrarum is linked to Chaos, and I am linked to it. There are times when I wonder if I am actually one of his favorite 'instruments'…or perhaps one of his favorite 'toys' might be a better designation. Why would it surprise you if _any_ witch was linked to Chaos?"

And the priests have no immediate answer for that, the both of them looking even more like they were wishing they could disappear instead of remaining under my gaze. Finally, the Order priest speaks up. "Do you intend to curse us for our sins, Your Highness?" he asks me, sounding humbled.

And I am getting more and more certain that there is some backstory between priests and witches that I do not know, and that I really need to ask Parfait about it. Until I know what happened, I decide to be vague and pretend that I already know. "Right now, I am too pleased to have received that message to feel like cursing anyone. You _should_ be more…attentive…to your responsibilities in the future."

Both priests look relieved, but the neophyte still looks confused, perhaps wondering what right the priests think that I have to curse them. I cannot help but wonder that, myself. "Black robes, oaths, and an apprenticeship to the high priest of Chaos for you upon our return, since it appears that your encounter was genuine," the Order priest says to the neophyte, who's future has now been sealed for him. By speaking through this neophyte, as far as the priests are concerned, Chaos has chosen this one for his own.

The neophyte nods, still looking a little shaken, but I do not blame him.

It is not like one hears directly from a god every day.

….


	44. In the Aftermath

**Chapter 44. In the Aftermath**

At the end of a very long afternoon, we return to the palace to complete the necessary paperwork. As soon as I write out my initial statement of the events of the day, Emelaigne signs her own as well and asks if she may be excused to go to bed. Sir Willard tells her that nothing additional is needed from her tonight, just as Father and Ophelia walk into Head Clerk Tuttle's study. The knight and the clerk immediately rise and bow to them with murmurs of 'Your Majesties,' but Emelaigne immediately goes to her mother to be wrapped up in a hug.

"I think she wants her bed," I tell Ophelia, who nods and leads her daughter out of the room. I think that right now Emelaigne is still trying her best not to cry as she sees that I am still taking the day's events in stride, but her mother will sooth the tears out of her.

"How long will you be needing my daughter?" my father asks the other two men.

Clerk Tuttle shifts uncomfortably. "There is a great deal of paperwork to deal with, Your Majesty, as she is a witness, she made arrests on behalf of the Crown, found stolen goods and goods stolen, identified and released persons held against their will, was the intended victim of an assault or assassination attempt…."

"It has been a busy day, Father," I tell him. "And apparently in Angielle, the paperwork for such things takes longer than the events themselves."

"At least three hours of paperwork that needs to be done tonight, Your Majesty," Sir Willard specifies. "And perhaps another hour or two that she will need to complete within the next couple of days. Clerk Tuttle says that he needs to make new forms to fill out concerning suspect apprehension using magical means because we do not have any."

And a small, wry smile pulls at my father's lips for a moment, and I think I know why. I have possibly found the one contingency there was not already a form for. "And she can be sparred for a few minutes of conversation right now?" my father says, but that is not really a request…not coming from the lips of the king.

The other two men bow and leave the room, shutting the door to the office behind them, and my father faces me directly. "When Ophelia mentioned that you were taking Emelaigne somewhere you expected to have 'problems'…."

"I did not expect problems of this caliber," I tell my father. "I expected there to be some theft perhaps, and that the usual inspector had been bribed to ignore that…not a full criminal syndicate complete with a slave pen!"

A disgusted look crosses my father's face at that. With all his efforts he is horrified to know that such a thing existed right under his nose…and in one of the Crown's warehouses at that! The boldness of the criminals disturbs him. He has to be wondering what else he is missing, for criminals to be this brazen, and what price his subjects are paying for it. "You intended to show your sister a theft and bribe case…for what purpose?"

"Ophelia and I actually discussed this several days ago," I tell him. "The two of you decided that she should grow up when you put her in long skirts. Sheltering her immaturity does her no favors, even if you describe it as trying to protect her. If she does not learn of reality in a controlled situation, she will learn of it in an uncontrolled situation. It is best if this happens in a place where she can be physically protected as she is exposed to mental difficulties. I apologize if I have overstepped my role. Like I said…I expected a little theft and bribery, but when I became aware that there was a secret room with people imprisoned in it…."

My father nods. "You decided not to risk that they might be moved as soon as you left and notified the proper authorities, so you wanted to take care of the matter yourself."

"I could not just leave them there Father!" I tell him. "If I had, I am not sure that I could have lived with myself if they _had_ been moved out of reach of rescue. And I was not sure that notifying the guards close to the warehouse would have done any good at all. It is not impossible some more of the local guards could have been on their payroll to 'look the other way,' and it is quite probable considering what the criminals said about having an 'understanding' commander! On top of that, I have a duty to my subjects as much as I do to those that are currently yours."

My father is silent for a moment at that. "You mean the witches?"

I nod. "There is still distrust, wounds caused to both sides during the Witch Hunt, and the Great War. It would help if humans saw the witches doing things to help them…but in the current climate, that is nearly impossible. The good witches are still traumatized by the events of the Witch Hunt, and believe that if humans see them using their powers, they might try to harm them. So, no one sees the witches when they do help people using magic, because the witches hide that they have done so to avoid persecution. There is safety in that…but then the humans only see the witches when they curse them, but not when they help them.

"Waltz and I are pretty much the only witches living as such in the view of the general public," I continue to explain. "He is judged benign and worthy of trust due to the people knowing him as he was when he was cursed, and that he helped defeat Mother. I must help people as I can and be seen doing so not only for my own sake as I attempt to live outside my mother's shadow, but so humans will notice the Tenebrarum Bearer behaving in a benevolent fashion."

My father takes a deep breath. "You know that there are many evil witches, Lucette."

I nod. "And there are also many evil humans. I saw some of them earlier today. I would wager that most of those young women would have preferred getting cursed to what those men were going to do to them. There are also good witches and good humans. It is my role to punish evil, and to reward good…and to create an environment in which good can flourish. I simply do not assume a human is good until they prove otherwise, or assume that a witch is evil until they prove otherwise. I prefer to judge individuals on their merits or the lack thereof, and assume nothing about their behavior based on what they were born as. I think I recall telling you this before, at breakfast one morning."

My father only looks at me as I say this, and I sigh. "I know that Mother did awful things to both you and others. I know that you love _me_ , but I wish you would not want every other witch to prove themselves before you feel able to stop distrusting them. I can understand that you are suspicious of witches in general because Mother once led them…but she is gone, and I stand in her place. I am trying to do the best that I can."

"You really do stand in her place, don't you," my father sighs. "Trust is a hard thing to reform, once broken…and suffering breeds mistrust."

"And many people suffered on both sides," I tell him. "I do not expect my task to be short, or easy." _Especially since I know progress will be erased once more, unless that knife says that my task is something I can accomplish in this cycle._

"And I wish that it was a burden that you did not have to carry," my father tells me. "You have so many others."

 _I will admit that this has been a long day…. I will have need of my husband tonight._ And it occurs to me to wonder where Waltz is. I saw him leaving my belt pouch and slipping under the crack at the bottom of the door earlier, but I am not sure where he went after leaving the office. At any rate, since no one but me knows that he was even there, he has escaped the paperwork and I cannot say that I blame him for doing so.

My father sighs. "And all of this, on top of a potential plague starting…or did you have something to do with that? You _were_ in the same office when someone noticed that clerk's symptoms."

"I had asked a maid with a loose tongue to identify which clerk was living outside his means," I admit, "in order to find one that was being bribed. I knew that his supervisor, and thus Emelaigne and I, would be taking his duties. I knew that if he was symptomatic of something that required quarantine, he would have no way to warn the people that were bribing him that he was not the one coming today. The spell will wear off on its own in a few days, and is not a 'curse' exactly."

And my father shakes his head at me. "You certainly found trouble, when you went looking for it. I'll have someone tell the physician to stop panicking; that you were just keeping that clerk out of the way while you were hunting down the criminals that were bribing him."

"Thank you, Father," I reply. My father is excusing my use of magic even though it caused distress among his servants, and will imply that I was specifically looking for the prey that ended up in my net. This will enhance my reputation among the staff at the very least, if they believe that I was hunting for criminals and then caught them.

"It sounds like you showed admirable restraint," he admits. "I spoke to one of the guardsmen that was attending you earlier. He said that you wanted to turn the criminals into pigs—and I can certainly understand that desire—but you did not."

"I was not there as the Tenebrarum Bearer," I tell him. "I was there on the behalf of the Crown. I decided that I could use every means available to me to capture the criminals, but once the situation became safe, they had to face the Crown's justice and not that of the Tenebrarum Bearer."

My father smiles at me. "You did exactly as you should have, and I am proud of you for it."

"Thank you, Father. And concerning the manager of the warehouse…" I begin, and my father nods.

"The initial report I received said his daughter was among the captives?" he asks.

"She was," I admit. "If I had to guess, I would say that he had originally agreed to house a little contraband, but they required more of him. When he balked at increasing demands, they took his daughter to keep him quiet. He appeared completely unaware that there were prisoners being held within his facility. It is not impossible that he was proceeding in his job honestly, discovered 'irregularities,' and _then_ his daughter was taken to keep him quiet. If he knew some guardsmen were part of the criminal organization, it is plausible that he did not know who to turn to for help."

"And now he is to be tried and sentenced like the rest of them, as an accessory to theft if not for keeping the captives," my father notes.

"He knows that, but seems to believe that having his daughter free is sufficient compensation for his own loss of freedom," I say, before pausing for a moment. "Not all of the criminal elements were caught up today, and he seems willing to help catch more of them. I think he might have information that would be considered useful. I…did tell one of the former captives that I would ask you for mercy concerning his current plight, for his daughter's sake. You can pardon at will, I cannot."

My father considers this for a moment. "Would you grant it if you could?"

"Yes," I tell him. "I would write off his prison sentence in exchange for evidence that takes other criminals out of Angielle's streets. But after the dust has settled I would place him in a position that does not carry a great deal of trust, or pay, but where he is able to earn bread for himself and his daughter honestly.

"And concerning Tuttle," I continue, "he tried to distract the criminals when they came in, presumably so I could make an 'alternative' exit and escape with the girls, but then played along when he figured out that I had decided to deal with the situation differently. He is not a soldier, but he did try to get between me and them when he realized that the captain was trying to stick a sword in me before finding that I already had a shield in place. He deserves to be handsomely rewarded…and if you have not yet chosen a minister of intelligence, he might deserve consideration for that role. He is dedicated to his work, loyal, meticulous, _and_ intelligent. He also has more nerve than I would normally think to attribute to a clerk."

My father smiles at me. "That is what I shall do, on both counts. You are correct in that Tuttle deserves such consideration. Recognizing when someone shows both loyalty and talent and putting them in positions appropriate to their skills is a large part of ruling a nation successfully. No monarch can rule in a vacuum; there are always those that we need to help us govern, and how we choose decides what kind of a reign we have. You are going to make an excellent queen someday. When that day _does_ come, I shall rest easy knowing that Angielle is in your hands."

And I cannot help but smile at my father. He seldom gives me praise this high.

My father leaves, Clerk Tuttle and Sir Willard return, and we all get back to work. While I am not particularly startled when servants deliver us a late supper, this takes the clerk by surprise, and the knight seems slightly astonished by the quality of the meal. "I am use to having to go to the kitchens to get anything at all myself during these late night sessions," the clerk says, eyeing the roasted suckling piglet that is more than large enough for the three of us to share.

I shrug. "Look at it as your compensation for having to teach me how to complete paperwork, as well how to properly conduct inspections." _To complete inspections, apparently one must introduce oneself, confiscate the books, find the stolen articles, free the captives, catch the criminals, and then call for the guards to mop up after you. I am quite confident in my ability to perform the tasks, though Emelaigne may need another lesson. Though I do have to wonder what you do if you find nothing wrong…._ "They could not politely feed me but not the two of you."

"You are welcome in my office at any time, Princess," Tuttle admits. "At mealtimes, or otherwise."

One of the maids that brought the food curtsies to me. "Prince Waltz told us where you were, Your Highness, and that you had not eaten yet. And…the cook wanted me to express his thanks to you. His niece was among the girls you rescued this morning."

Which explains not only one of my favorite dishes, but the large plate of pastries that arrived with it. My stomach growls, and I remember that I have not had anything to eat since breakfast. "Tell him that I was pleased to be able to help." And now I know that there is at least one cook that will not poison me. And I make a note to tell Father about the warehouse and what goes on there at the start of the next cycle before I leave Angielle. It would not do to let this slide even while I try to stop the cycling. "Where _is_ my husband, by the way?" I ask.

"I saw His Highness in one of the wings of guest rooms," the maid tells me. "He said that he was looking for something, but refused help in his task. Do you wish me to ask him to attend you, Princess?"

And I know that he is searching for the knife. Of course he would be. Only the two of us would have any idea what the room looked like at all. I just hope he remembers more about the room than I do. I was rather…distracted at the time. "Let him be. I will not need him until after I am finished here…and that is unlikely to be for some time."

After a break for supper, the three of us continue the paperwork. I do note Sir Willard murmuring something about how we needed to do this properly, even though Sir Alcaster had started implementations in which the guard could cut corners. Sir Willard seems very displeased with this, and the information adds weight to my theory that in this cycle, Alcaster has a finger or perhaps an entire hand in criminal dealings to raise coin quickly. It is very late by the time Sir Willard and Clerk Tuttle tell me that I have completed everything needful. I leave the office after I wrap a few meat pies from the pastry plate carefully in a napkin for my husband, certain that he has not bothered to attend to his own needs even as he sees to mine.

When I shut the door behind myself, I see my husband leaning against the wall wearing a _very_ big smile. "You found it?" I ask, excited.

"Watch this," he says, moving his hand into his coat, and withdrawing something white that fades into the green of his coat as he holds it.

I throw my arms around my husband, the tied napkin still tight in my grasp as I swing my arms around him.

"You want to go home now?" he asks when he puts me down.

I grin at him, and open a portal to our room in the Marchen. We can try to decipher the contract tomorrow.

…

As soon as my breakfast is done the next morning, Waltz and I show the knife to Parfait. After several experiments, we find out how to reveal the writing on the scabbard. I can see something written in glowing script with my second sight, but find myself unable to read the words. In a more mundane fashion to find the writing, the knife or scabbard merely has to be stained by something to show what is written. Even common ink works well for about ten minutes before it fades and the object returns to its previous state. I would guess that blood would work as well, it _is_ a knife, and if I had found it in earlier cycles I might have used it for that purpose and noticed the writing a long time ago. But there is a problem.

"I have no knowledge in reading this," Parfait admits, gesturing to the elegant but somehow precise lettering.

"I do not even know what language that is in," I say quietly, surprised at myself. I can speak two more languages well enough, and read in a third, but I have never seen writing that looks like this before.

"I can tell you that much," the fairy admits to me. "The gods have a written language for their own speech that will translate well into any given language, but you will probably have to find a priest that can read this for you. The only witch I know of that might have been capable of doing so disappeared during the Witch Hunt like so many others."

A priest? Well, I can find one of those. There is an entire temple full of them in town. I will probably have to put on an illusion first, to ensure that they do not misinterpret the reading based on what they might think my circumstances are, or refuse to perform the service for me entirely. "In that case, I will have to take a trip to the temple."

Parfait nods, and I think of one more thing. "Just so you know," I tell the fairy, "the neophyte that mentioned this also said that I was given the hint to its location because Chaos had allowed Order to use me to speak to you, the night of my second wedding."

And Parfait's eyes widen, and she looks troubled. "For the gods to know that balance has been damaged so much that they decide to speak to us themselves…."

"Of course they know," I tell her. "How could they not? Would they not want balance restored?"

"They would," Parfait admits. "But they do not typically take an active hand. They usually work through mortals to accomplish their will or to regain balance. What is happening here is highly irregular!"

I can only stare at her for a moment. "You don't say," I deadpan. "And here I thought that time cycled for people every decade or so."

Waltz shakes his head, laughing softly, but Parfait explains. "What usually happens, how balance is achieved, is through the nature of mortals. For example, mortals have order but then someone sees a problem within that order and tries to change things to remove the problem, and this brings chaos as the mortals bring change. Changes may or may not solve the original problem, or they may create new ones…but eventually the chaos itself will be seen as problematic, and people once again restore order. And then the cycle continues around and around again, and this conflict brings balance and even as things change they still remain the same."

"As long as there is imperfection in mortals, there will be conflict," I decide. "There remains tension as the pendulum swings back and forth between one extreme and the other, rather than maintaining a consistent balance."

Parfait nods. "Imperfection is why there is suffering, and even as mortals choose actions that direct their paths. But since mortals are still responsible for their choices that harm or help others, justice and true balance without the pendulum swinging is only achieved in the next life where the gods judge the mortals worthy of either residence with them in their city, or placement in the darkest depths of the underworld from whence corruption seeps."

And I shiver. Accepting corruption is analogous to deciding to spend one's afterlife in the darkness.

"So, why do you think they are taking a more direct hand now?" I ask quietly. "Why did they allow mother to make that contract in the first place? What do they hope to achieve by it? There was some mention of 'mending wounds to mend wounds so history does not repeat itself.'"

Parfait only shakes her head. "I have no answer for that, but there is a lot of history that has occurred in my lifetime that I would not want to repeat itself, and in yours as well."

"There was one other thing I was wondering," I tell her. "My conversation with the priests implied they had not heard from the gods in centuries. It was also implied that there is some kind of history between the priests and the witches. What happened?"

The fairy's lips twitch in a wry smile. "Were they nervous when discussing it? They had a right to be…and if I know you, you said something vague but undeniably accurate that could be taken in more than one way, and you skewered them on accident."

"Their behavior is consistent with that theory," I admit, surprised that my gentle friend sounds bitter. "At the end of the conversation, they even asked me if I intended to curse them for their sins. But why?"

"You know that the witches and fairies came into existence three hundred years ago, along with our Crystallum. Did you know _why_ the gods made us, or who we were before we were given magic?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I assumed that witches and fairies had once been human. Humans have a much longer history than a mere three centuries, and we cannot be too dissimilar from them since we look like humans and can produce children with them."

"That much is accurate," Parfait continues, "but more specifically, our ancestors were once priests. Mortals had been calling on the gods, requesting a more direct hand to solve their problems. The gods gave magical power to some of their priests, but not others, making the first witches that had been Chaos priests, and fairies that had been Order priests. They were told that their talents would be blood-bound, meaning that they could only be passed down from parent to child, and that they would now serve the gods by helping the humans through magic.

"However, there was a problem," Parfait continues. "The priests that had not been given magic were jealous of the ones that had. They looked for reasons why the gods would grant this ability to some but not others, but their question as to why magic was not granted to every priest remained unanswered…of if it was answered, they did not like that answer."

"That…would have increased tension between the two groups," I acknowledge. "If they had found an answer to that question, would that have resulted in further tension? I can only assume that there would have been even more division if the priests that had remained human discovered themselves 'unworthy' in some fashion."

"You are probably correct in that," Parfait admits. "As it was, there was a schism in the priesthood, between those with magic and those without, and those with magic left the temples rather than use that magic to punish their former cohorts. The gods apparently found fault with both groups, and decided to punish them. The human priests received silence from the gods they served…which has been unbroken until today. I am sure that the temple in town is in turmoil still, with the revelation that Chaos spoke to a _neophyte_ to give _you_ a message, and it is even worse because Order used _you_ to speak to _me._ Those that believe the encounters were genuine are probably humiliated that the gods broke their silence in this manner.

"To punish the fairies and witches," Parfait continues, "corruption appeared to tempt us. It is a thing of the darkest depths of the underworld that had once been kept there, but it has been permitted loosened bonds to try to ensnare us. The witches protested that corruption could affect them more than the fairies, considering the source of their power, and were given as balance the power to curse and the power to heal—both gifts all fairies lack."

I frown for a moment. "Then why can all witches curse, but only a select few can heal?"

"Healing was bound by bloodlines, but not given to everyone," Parfait admits. "It was once much stronger than it is now. The short answer is that the humans kept the healers so busy, the healers did not have time for large families. Some lines faded away as the healers married humans, lessening their power to the point that there was not enough magic left to heal at all. Every witch had the ability to curse, which was meant to be used as a switch for instruction rather than as a cudgel for punishment."

"And the Crystallum?" I ask.

"Another finger in the human priests' eyes," Parfait admits. "They were used as power indicators and sources of power for the witches or fairies in the geographical areas, but they could also be used to grant automatic access to the gods…which no priests have. On occasion, there will be a signal given by the gods that a specific petitioner may meet with them that appears in the temple at the Throne of the gods, but not one priest has been given access to the Throne itself. The gates will simply not open if a priest is anywhere nearby. If you ever want to embarrass a priest, ask how they can consider themselves such when the gods refuse to talk to them."

"That _does_ seem to make priesthood irrelevant if they are unable to make the gods' current will known to everyone, because there is no way for them to find out what it is themselves," I muse. "Did the magical beings and the human priests ever try to reunify?"

Parfait's expression becomes grim. "Actually, your mother tried to facilitate that before she fell, and she was met with the same arguments that caused the schism in the first place. The temples would not even take in the witch _children,_ so at least they would be safe. If the priesthood had taken in the witches, the Witch Hunt might have stopped. The Great War would never have happened. She actually blamed the priests for the massacres almost as much as she blamed Grimm for writing the fairytales. Even after three centuries of silence from the gods, they were still unwilling to bend to what the witches and fairies believed to be the will of the gods when we were created. Now, even most of the magical folk have forgotten what we once were, what we always should have been…but the silence of the gods is still deafening to the priests, so they remember at least in their senior ranks."

"So the Fairytale curses are an aberration of some sort of the original curses that were used as instruction?" I ask, thinking of how horrible some of them 'smell' when I am getting rid of them.

The fairy nods. "I can only assume that your mother was responsible in some way for tainting the witches' ability to curse using the power of the Tenebrarum. While some of the Fairytale curses are no more harmful than the regular kind, others…."

"Others reek of something tainted," I admit.

…..

"I feel that I must congratulate you, Your Highness," I hear from behind me three days later. I intended to take my trip to the temple to get the knife read, but the temple is still closed to the public. Apparently, the priests are still closeting themselves for meetings, and Parfait, my husband, and I are the only ones in Angielle outside of the priesthood that know why. The priests are trying to cope with a very uncomfortable truth, probably trying to decide if they will accept it or not. And I cannot help but wonder what they are saying behind those closed doors, even as I turn to face the man that is now addressing me.

I had been walking to the tutoring study to collect my husband, having woken up from a nap early, and now I turn to see Lord…Sir Decimond approaching me. As he is now formally my father's advisor, his title has changed. I stop, and allow him to catch up to me, offer me the expected bow, and then I continue to walk with him at my side as I go down the hallway.

"On what, in specific?" I ask him.

He smiles at me. "Your daring rescue of those poor women of course, in conjunction with putting an end to other criminal activities…and perhaps as importantly…you were very visible as you performed those actions. The city is talking of nothing else."

" _Nothing_ else?" I ask.

"Well," he admits, "there is some mention about the temple still being closed. But people prefer to speak of daring rescues rather than the peculiarities of priests."

"This does not surprise me," I say. Rescues are much easier to understand.

Decimond continues. "You are aware that everyone feared that you would be your mother's second coming, and feared you because they had feared her. But then everyone was talking about you as you married the man that betrayed her to her doom. And what was more unusual, you appeared _happy_ with him and got with child quickly, so people decided that the pairing had not been purely your father's idea. And then you began lifting curses…not all at once, but a few at a time is still enough to make an impression. The general population assumes that there is a technical difficulty of some kind preventing you from doing more at this time, since you have not been using your magic for long. You took actions that, whether the general populace knows it or not, made the corrupted witches fear _you_ enough to lessen the cursing. The people of Angielle notice this, are grateful for it, and some wonder if it is your influence that allowed the change. You further enhanced this by cursing another witch in an instructive fashion recently.

"And now," he continues, "you have made a hero of yourself as you rid the city of criminals of the foulest sort, and rescued innocent girls. Your own popularity is starting to approach that of your father's. Few people seem to take your risk of corruption as a serious threat to the kingdom, now."

I nod, thinking about the outing I had been on with Waltz yesterday while he played with the children. Now, where there had once been distrust, there are smiles as the people of Angielle look at me, as well as a little awe. It is a pleasant change from looks of fear and horror.

"Might I enquire, Your Highness," Sir Decimond asks, "about your conversation with the priests during the aftermath of the events of the warehouse? I spoke with one of the guards that you had with you, and he said the priests appeared…disturbed when you finished with them. Was that conversation related to whatever reason the temple doors are shut?"

"Would you believe me if I said that Chaos himself had given a neophyte a message to help me find something I misplaced?" I ask, a little tongue in cheek.

Decimond blinks, perhaps unsure if I am joking or not. "I would find that…extremely unlikely, Princess," he finally answers.

"Well," I answer, "it was something just as likely as that, and I am fairly certain that it is why the doors to the temple are closed. It is something I would consider business of a magical nature."

"Then I will consider it your private affair, and refrain from further inquiries," he notes.

"I suppose you have a purpose in this conversation rather than simply congratulating me?" I ask curiously, sensing he has something else he wishes to say.

"It is more of an observation, rather than anything else," he tells me. "Your behavior is impeccable. However, there _is_ another matter. Due to my own business interests, I keep a close eye on the prices certain items are bought and sold at. I have noticed several disturbing…patterns."

 _And he complements me before telling me what he wants me to know. Does he think that complements will give his words more weight, or is he merely trying to ensure that he has my attention before expressing what his concerns actually are?_ But I also notice that no one else is within range to hear us talk now, and we had been passing a few maids before. Apparently, Sir Decimond thinks the hallways appropriate to private conversation, and I suppose they might be. People are more suspicious when there are meetings behind closed doors than 'chance' encounters in the hall. As long as you are watchful and switch back to innocent topics when anyone not included in the conversation becomes within range, hallway conversations really could be considered private. "Regarding specific items?" I ask, curious. "For what kind of items…or rather, for what kind of use are these items?"

"They are what I would call 'contingency' items, Princess," he tells me. "Tents, blankets, preserved foodstuff, arrows…but not other weapons, oddly enough."

"You mean as if someone was expecting to move soldiers from one place to another, that they would bring most of their own equipment with them, and that they would do so without the resources…therefore the permission…of the Crown?" I ask him, wondering if full-fledged rebellion will be Alcaster's move as the two of us continue to walk alone along the hall. He has not tried that before…but then, he has always had Myth advising him before. Myth prefers to be subtle…to a point.

"That is my fear, Your Highness," he tells me. "I had noticed this even before my appointment, but the more popular you seem to become, the more fervent these preparations seem to be developing. I admit, realizing this is one of the reasons I was interested in the position of your father's advisor. I could not resist the allure of such a mystery…or of such a challenge."

"And if _I_ were behind them, you would have expected the opposite association?" I ask.

The advisor nods. "Naturally, Your Highness. There is no need for force when subtle actions could gain you…premature…access to the throne, and your popularity could quell suspicion. Obviously, I take the association that exists as evidence that someone that opposes you or your methods is behind this."

And if the enemy was merely opposing my father and I had no role, there might be no association. I nod at Sir Decimond's words, realizing that this man is actually as intelligent as I pretended to be during the last cycle. "I wonder if the gathering of these things are really part of a 'contingency' plan, as opposed to…" I say.

He looks at me very seriously. "Be very careful in the coming weeks, Your Highness," he tells me. "Especially for the life of your husband. Everyone in Angielle knows the fastest way to corrupt a witch. Were you to become corrupted, your death would become 'necessary,' removing someone that would otherwise be very difficult to overthrow. Another option is if the mastermind likes the kind of power a corrupted queen might grant him. You could still use fear to rule Angielle as your mother once did."

"And you do not wish that kind of power?" I ask.

"You mean what are my reasons for not wanting that in addition to the kingdom suffering in a similar manner as it did under your mother, Your Highness? That kind of power is so…brutish," Sir Decimond tells me. "No finesse is required, and any idiot with a weapon could wield it. There is more triumph in a victory won inside the rules than with cheating. It is not necessarily the money, power, or fame that I find important, Princess; it is the undeniable proof that I have bettered those that set themselves up against me, or creditable foes that I have set myself up against. If you should ever wish to reward my efforts, allow me either problems or foes worthy of me, that I might triumph over them as well."

"And how does your fiancée fit as worthy of your affection, if struggle and competition are what you love?" I ask him. "She is not particularly beautiful, for you to desire her for that reason. She is not particularly intelligent, so you were not looking for your intellectual equal to aid you in your quests for victory."

Sir Decimond nods. "She is a breath of fresh air, Your Highness. She is proof that not everything _must_ be complicated, that every encounter _must_ be a battle. Viorica is an oasis in an otherwise arid land, and I find her zest for life refreshing. And…I feel that I must thank you for pushing me into confessing the truth to her."

"I am not sure that you would have done so, had I not," I tell the man. "Did you find your action worth the cost of it?"

"I did," he admits. "She has been a little less cheerful since, but she remained with me and I need no longer worry about what would happen if she knew the truth. My oasis might be a little less shady, but I no longer fear it vanishing. And you are correct that I probably would not have told her, and would have allowed my fear of losing her to hold me captive. You allowed me to become unfettered, Your Highness."

"You know that I had already realized that you are the sort of man that might do the right thing for a morally immaterial reason," I note. "I do not believe that you would be as frank with me, otherwise."

Decimond nods. "And how would you respond to that observation, were you in power in your father's place?"

"Leave you in your position, but watch you carefully to ensure the price of your victories are not too high," I admit.

The man actually smiles at me. "Then we will not conflict, Your Highness. I shall endeavor to ensure you have a stable reign in which we may both have our victories once your father retires, and make certain that the price of them does not exceed what they are worth."

"What did Father say when you told him of your findings?" I ask.

He returns to congratulating me concerning the warehouse matter for a moment as we pass a working maid, and then we pick up our real conversation again after we pass her. "He…wanted proof rather than suspicions," Sir Decimond admits, "as well as the name of the enemy." I think I hold my face blank for a moment, but he apparently catches a flicker of something. "Something tells me that you _do_ know the name of the enemy. I have heard that your father implied that you knew there were slavers _before_ you caught them."

 _And it is not anywhere near the time that I can reveal Alcaster. I still have to finish repairs, and I have only heard from one of the other Bearers. This is still much too early._ "I am not omniscient, but it is not always safe to assume that I do not know something." I am silent for a moment. "Does Father know that you are telling me of this?" I ask.

Sir Decimond's cheek gives a little twinge. "He did not command me _not_ to tell you, Princess."

 _In other words, no. Father has no idea that I am being told about these suspicions._

"Did he give a rationale for telling me or not?" I ask.

"It is my opinion that he believes you already overworked, Your Highness, and wants more definitive answers before calling the matter to your attention." Sir Decimond tells me. "However, I recall your statement implying that the two of you have had…problems with communication in the past…and that you might need to be aware of the situation anyway. I am sure that His Majesty has your best interests at heart. I believe that he is intending to notify your husband of potential danger to ensure he takes care of the both of you."

My eyebrows start to rise before I can wipe my face blank. Whatever the circumstances, my father is entrusting my safety to a witch…and not simply because he has no other choice in it. I am fairly certain that he had at least a little trouble trusting Waltz in the beginning…I remember Father asking me if Waltz had asked me for anything shortly after we were married…but now my father trusts my husband wholeheartedly. This is good.

"Your Highness… _do_ you know the name of the enemy?" Sir Decimond asks, breaking me out of my reverie.

"I have suspicions, but not proof," I tell the man. "In this situation, my father would demand proof."

"Then we are in the same boat, so to speak, Your Highness," Sir Decimond admits. "You _are_ taking appropriate precautions, are you not?"

"Why do you think that Waltz and I do not sleep in the palace, and only take meals here on occasion?" I ask him. "Safety as I learned to use magic was the original excuse for my absence, but I have additional reasons to remain outside the palace most of the time, now."

Sir Decimond nods. "When you _do_ take meals here, do so without warning…as in the servants barely have time to set your places before you arrive to the table. It is harder to attempt to poison someone that is unexpected."

I pause for a moment, thinking. "And if the enemy was allowed to make the initial move?" I ask. "And a trail back to the enemy could be found and followed at that point?" Investigations take time…and I need all the time I can get.

"If that is the tactic you are choosing, Your Highness, be sure to take the upmost care," the advisor tells me. "You are irreplaceable, so do not put your own person at risk. As…pleasant…as your sister is, I do not believe her your equal. You might be a worthy opponent of whatever enemy has set himself against you, but she lacks your will and perception."

"There are spells to tell if something has been poisoned," I tell him.

"Use them, Princess," he says, "and remember that a knife or an arrow can kill just the same as poison. If either pierce your body before you recognize danger, your magic will not save you."

…..


	45. Trip to the TempleVisit with the Doctor

**Chapter 45. A Trip to the Temple, and a Visit with the Doctor**

I go to the city's temple during the heat of the afternoon, hoping that there will be less traffic, and there are very few petitioners in line when I arrive, in spite of the fact that the doors to the temple have been shut for several days. I wear an illusion that gives me dark hair and a rounder face, but leaves my eyes as yellow as they ever were. I do not try to hide my now showing pregnancy, and as I wait in the short line in the anteroom of the temple, one of the temple neophytes brings me a chair after he asks me if I would like one while I wait. I wear the dagger on my arm under my sleeve, as it can be unstrapped from there so it will be more convenient that if it kept was on my thigh. No one accompanies me, but so long as I remain calm, there should be no problems.

Waltz did not really want me to go alone, especially after I had told him of my conversation with Sir Decimond, and my husband had admitted to having a similar conversation with my father. The advisor's theory that Waltz could be targeted troubled the both of us, for obvious reasons, but then Waltz brought up a disturbing point. Death cancels marriage contracts, so it is entirely possible that if he died during this cycle, he would remember nothing of our marriage in the next.

And I have no idea if I could cope with that. For Waltz to not remember marrying me, loving me, or fathering our son…. With everything else that has happened to me, and what will happen as I must repair the Tenebrarum once more, I will have no greater need of him than I will during the next cycle. So I told him that he is not allowed to die under any circumstance, with perhaps the only exception being if it is absolutely necessary to save me and our son. I have no reason to believe that I will reset if I die, and I am certain that if our son dies he will remain dead.

My husband told me that he would be careful, and reminded me to do the same. Fortunately, the temple is not a dangerous place, and as much as I love my husband I feel as if this is something I should be doing alone. This is between my mother and I…and Chaos, of course.

As I wait, I sit back and look around the temple that I have never had occasion to visit, until now. The structure is a study in contrast, using black and white stone in a chessboard pattern. Even the tiles outside on the roof alternate colors, but this effect seems less sever in the portions of the building that are shadowed.

It is not that long before a grey-robed neophyte fetches me, and leads me into the receiving area. The decoration also appears to use the same checkerboard pattern used elsewhere, but the pillars holding the ceiling are grey and there are colorful motifs of events at regular intervals along the walls. We stop before a grand desk of dark wood, at which sit two priests. On the left, the Order priest is a young man dressed in white robes, and on the right the Chaos priestess is an older woman dressed in black vestments. Both of them look a little tense, as if something is unsettled in their minds. And I have to wonder if the priests and the neophyte I spoke to a few days ago were taken seriously, or swept under the rug with other uneasy truths.

"What service do you seek?" the old woman asks me carefully. I decide that she is hoping for no surprises today. That is unfortunate, because I am probably going to give her one. "And from which god do you seek it?"

Most petitioners ask for prayers on their behalf, or request a priest that can serve as a mediator between two parties on matters not covered by law in Angielle. This is also where people come to arrange a priest for marriage ceremonies, as well as one to say prayers during funerals. There are also scholars among the priests on a variety of subjects available for consultation. Publically, this is how the priesthood and temple supports themselves, although they also own property they collect rent from. Between the two methods, they not only support themselves, but are able to provide some amount of charity to the surrounding area.

But I am here for something the priestess would consider unusual. "I seek someone knowledgeable in reading the language of holy texts," I tell them. "I have an object with an inscription that I need interpreted."

The two clergy startle and exchange looks. "The most suitable priest for that purpose serves Chaos…" the Order priest starts.

"Then that is who I wish to see," I say.

The priestess' eyebrows rise. "We are not so popular, compared to the priests of Order. There is an Order priest that could also, Lady…."

"You may call me Lady Renita," I tell her. "And the Chaos priest will do as Chaos has affected my life more than Order ever has." _And this is in spite of the fact that Order used me as a mouthpiece to speak to Parfait. Since Chaos is responsible for this object, one of his own priests may as well tell me what is written._ _It is not as if Chaos priests make me nervous…though_ I _might do that to_ them _at times._

The priestess blinks in surprise, and she looks even more uneasy. This is not a common request, and she has to be wondering if it is linked in some way with recent events. With Chaos speaking to a neophyte, an object with an inscription in holy language appearing is of upmost interest. For it to not already be interpreted…. Either this is a new find from more than three hundred years ago, or the gods are speaking where the priests have access to their words for only the second time in three centuries.

"Very well," she says. "With what will you compensate the service you request?" She frowns at my ring, which marks me as very wealthy, and takes in my clothes that only classify me as upper-middle class. Perhaps she thinks me from a formerly wealthy family, fallen on hardships, and my ring is an heirloom of better times. Or perhaps I am really a noblewoman, merely 'slumming it.' Many petitioners pay for services or 'gift' the temple with an amount of coin in relation to their own wealth, or else a product of their trade. It is always the petitioner that sets the price of the service they requested. This is why, in spite of the grand marble hallway, it is said that the priests' dining area has mismatched chairs from the carpenters that gave them in exchange for services rendered. The priesthood wastes nothing.

"I intend to perform a service in return," I tell her simply, without specifying what that service might be. And I know that they need my services. There is a slight whiff of aberration coming from below, the scent of a curse.

She stares at me for a moment. "Very well," she finally says, and then addresses the neophyte behind me. "Take her to Brother Justineus."

The neophyte gives the two priests a bow, and motions for me to follow him. I look back at the desk before turning the corner, and see the Chaos Priestess hurriedly leaving her chair. I assume she has gone to go get her superior, to tell him of my odd request.

We go out of the temple proper, to another level which I assume houses the living quarters. "I will warn you," the neophyte tells me, "Brother Justineus can be a little…odd."

"Not compared to most of my own friends, or even myself, I would wager," I answer, trying to remember how many 'normal' people I actually know. It occurs to me that I have no way to even define 'normal.'

"As you say, my lady," he says, frowning as we walk down a long hallway with many doors, which I assume to be a dormitory. He picks a black door, and knocks. "Brother Justineus? There is a petitioner here to see you."

"What? Oh? Do they have something interesting to look at?" comes from inside.

"I am sure that you will be fascinated," I answer.

"Excellent! Coming…" I hear from inside. "Let me just get my locks…."

"He keeps four or five locks on his door," the neophyte whispers to me as I hear metal clinking from the other side of the door. "No one knows the reason. At any rate, I will wait in the hall until you are finished with Brother Justineus, and will facilitate you in your…service."

The door opens, and a balding old man in black robes that look like they were slept in opens the door. The scent of old books emanates from inside the room, and as the door opens wider I can clearly see overstuffed bookshelves and a desk that is piled high with papers and other old texts.

"Brother Justineus," the neophyte says, "this woman calls herself Lady Renita and she has an object with an inscription she needs read."

"Well, come in, come in Lady Renita and show me what you have," Justineus says ushering me in, and then he resets all of his locks after he has done so, closing the door on my young escort. "Meat-handed neophytes," he mutters. "Too clumsy to be allowed around valuable books."

"As you say," I tell him as I put up a quiet, simple spell that will muffle everything we say, just in case the inscription says something interesting enough the neophyte will be unable to keep his mouth closed.

The priest fumbles his last lock, and then turns around to stare at me. I allow my vision to shift long enough to see him as dark blue. From what Parfait told me, I am surprised to see a witch among the priests…though perhaps the other priests do not know what he is. There is no miasma of corruption that I can see, but he does not seem to be particularly powerful. An average witch like Muddy-Shoes could defeat him on her worst day even if he was at his best, and a stronger witch like Delora wouldn't even be breathing hard during a fight. Waltz could crush him like a bug, never mind my own capabilities. "Who are you?" he asks.

"I intend you no harm," I tell him. "I am here simply for your services as a translator."

"I'm very weak, not to mention old," he tells me. "I'd really rather just stay out of the way. They think me a little cracked here, even for a Chaos priest, but no one knows me as a witch and I want to keep it that way."

"All I wish of you at this time is to translate an inscription on a magical dagger that came into my possession," I tell the man. "That does not strike me as a particularly dangerous task."

"At this time?" the old man huffs.

"If I find more interesting inscriptions, I might be back," I tell him. "Now, will you perform your task?"

Justineus—if that even is his name—nods. I have to wonder if this is the witch scholar that Parfait mentioned as vanished during the Witch Hunt. How many disguised themselves, putting on masks in order to survive, and still live behind another face as someone else? "Tell me everything you know about it."

I roll up my sleeve, and start to unbuckle the straps around my arm. "I found it shortly after asking a fairy friend of mine for a dagger, before my own magic manifested. She says that she may have given me an ordinary dagger, but due to circumstances is unable to remember for sure. She has no memory of ever possessing a dagger like this." I get it off and show it to him, and the dagger and scabbard change from the color of my flesh to the color of my dress as I hold it up against my sleeve. "I did not notice an inscription until recently, but if you rub ink into it, you can see it for a short time." I do not tell him of its divine origin, preferring him to discern that for himself.

"Fascinating," the old witch says, taking it from me to go to his desk. I look over his shoulder as he rubs ink into the scabbard, and he turns a little pale as the writing appears. I can only assume that he recognizes the type of script. However, he carefully copies the words onto a blank piece of paper, and continues in his work. He checks the hilt and blade for writing as well, being very careful of the edge, and then leans back to see what he has written.

"Sanctuary…what is that?" he sighs. "Access to…. Meting of justice, perhaps," he mutters to himself as he works, getting up several times to consult some of the oldest books in his collection. It is a good twenty minutes before he finally grins and turns around to face me. "Well, I have it translated, but make of it what you will. It says on the scabbard, 'It is agreed that the signatory will be granted sanctuary within power, from whence she may be released by her daughter before the transfer of power is complete, she may be killed at the hand of or by the lack of action of her daughter, or released into our custody if the sanctuary is used for its purpose of granting access to our realm. The signatory is granted the right to attempt to justify herself using her daughter as comparison. The daughter is fated to repeat time until she has experienced pain equal to or greater than the signatory experienced between her own corruption and the start of the Witch Hunt, or until the daughter's corruption is achieved. If corruption of the daughter is not achieved, she is commanded to bring the signatory before us. The signatory's life shall be forfeit and judgement well be meted out at that time, while her daughter will be granted our grace.' There is also some kind of a measuring line on the blade itself, and the unit of measure this reflects is relatively close to being met. On the blade itself it says 'Pain is measured, the threat of corruption is ever present.'"

I look over at the blade, and see that he is correct. _Well, here is the measure of how close I am to meeting her level of pain. I am close…but not there yet._ "This…will increase the difficulty," I whisper. _One more cycle will be necessary after all. I will have to ensure that my mother stays alive next time, as I repair the Tenebrarum again. It's the only way I can present her before the gods…who are responsible for the appearance of this object…my copy of the contract._

Justineus looks at me curiously. "You apparently understand at least some of this. You are _certain_ this message is directed at you?"

"It fits my circumstances," I tell him. _And there is the 'impossible' task. I could not bring Mother before the gods unless I could use magic to move the Tenebrarum AND she was alive within it, giving me a period of only hours in which I could in theory reach the Throne of the gods. She did not guess I might become pregnant, and retain my power between the cycles. She thought that it was impossible._

And I realize that Parfait was right, at least partially right, when she first told me to bring balance to stop the cycling. The effect of that 'balance' was that I retained my power…and it became possible to meet the original terms of this contract. Mother would only face justice if I could bring her before the gods themselves, and that is now conceivable.

"It is also in holy text!" the old witch tells me. "This kind of language is only found in ancient documents penned directly from the speech of the gods themselves! For it to be written recently, and to you means…."

"My mother made a wager with Chaos himself at my expense," I tell him. "I intend to do everything I can to ensure the loss of it…I am the 'daughter' mentioned in the contract."

He looks shaken at that. "Are you sure? I mean, not everyone is commanded to bring their mother to the gods for judgement…but it _is_ in holy text. No one uses it lightly, and I can clearly see the magical glow the emanates from this just like it does from all original texts provided directly from the gods. No mortal wrote this."

"And there is magic at work that mortals are incapable of producing," I say, retaking the dagger to sheath it and return it to my arm, "but that is not your concern, as you are quite adamant that you wish to 'stay out of the way.'" I also take the piece of paper he used to translate the message, fold it up, and carefully place it in my pocket.

He flinches. "I only…" he starts before he sighs. "There is nothing I can do but hide. I am weak enough that trying to fight anything might kill me. I…am nothing but a scholar that is capable of a few magic tricks. My ancestors kept marrying humans, diluting my family's power. I am the last one of my family that had any magical ability at all."

"How long have you been hiding?" I ask.

"Since the Witch Hunt," he admits. "I had no children myself, and was not strong enough for either side to bother looking for me during the war. I had a friend, a priest of Chaos, that was slowly dying of illness. He said he could hide me, that I could impersonate him and he would teach me everything he knew so no one would know the difference. I use an illusion to resemble him…it's really the only magic I am good at. Ever since he died…I have been living as him."

"You had a good head for languages, or were a scholar already?" I ask.

"Both, actually," he admits. "We shared some common interests, which is how I came to know him so well. He was probably the only priest of rank I ever met that did not care that I was a witch."

"I may consult you again, if I have need of you," I tell him, preparing to go. "By the way…did you choose to 'stay out' of the recent controversies as well? Were the priests and the neophyte I spoke to a few days ago believed or dismissed?"

"You are the new Bearer, and this object is the same that Chaos wanted you to locate," he says, and it is not a question. He is quiet for a moment before continuing. "The point I made concerning that ordeal is that the gods are free to do as they will, and should remain unimpeded, that it was not our place to tell them what to do. Another high ranking priest agreed with me, saying that if the claims were true, it could be disastrous to impede them. If they were false, nothing would come of them. Officially, the temple has decided to use a wait-and-see approach. In the meantime, the boy was given black robes, and serves the Chaos high priest as apprentice. Apparently, he decided that if the boy was false, he needed watching; if he spoke truth, he would be the next high priest anyway and he might as well get started on training now."

"I suppose that is better than outright rejection," I admit. Perhaps there is hope for the priests after all.

The old man nods. "I think they mean to try to contact you, to see what you say about the event. They know that war breaking out was partially their fault and…would not like that revealed to the general public. That your mother attempted to get their cooperation to put a stop to the Witch Hunts and was refused right before she took…drastic measures…is not known to many outside the priesthood."

"I could see where they might want to keep that quiet," I admit. Mortals do not like admitting to failure…especially when the failures undermine their authority or apparent capability. They cannot deny that the three hundred years of silence from the gods is a punishment; therefore, they had done something wrong and undermined themselves in their authority to act on the behalf of the gods.

The old witch nods, and gets up to fiddle with the locks. "Bearer," he asks, "if you are being commanded to bring your mother before the gods…is she _alive_?"

"No…and yes," I answer. "It is complicated, but that is as much answer as I will give you. You have been of great help, but there is nothing further you can do in this matter at this time." The old witch grimaces at this, and I continue. "And who are you?"

"Teryn Arington," he admits, and then takes a deep breath. "I haven't spoken my own name in more than twenty years."

I nod. "And you will keep the contents of our discussion secret?" I ask. "If nothing else, keep my mother's involvement secret. If you wish to say that the gods have called a meeting of Bearers, you may. That should be enough to both satisfy and perk curiosity." And it is part of the truth. There must be a gathering of Bearers to help me bring my mother before the gods.

He offers me a bow. "It shall be as you desire, Bearer. It is the least I can do to serve you."

I remove the muffle spell, and exit the room find the neophyte standing against the far wall, but he is no longer alone. There is an old man in fur trimmed black robes I have never seen before, and the young man that brought me my message also in black standing beside him. I assume the older man is the high priest. They appear to be talking to the neophyte when I exit the room and shut the door behind myself. The three men cease their conversation and turn around to look at me. "Was Brother Justineus able to help you?" the high priest asks me.

"Yes, he was," I tell him. "Now, for my service, I will remove a curse."

The young priest bows before me. "Yes, Your Highness," he says, before turning to the ranking priest. "It is her voice…and no one else would offer to remove a curse. I heard the guards at the warehouse mention that she had worn another face when trapping the criminals, so they did not recognize her."

The young neophyte looks stunned, as well as disappointed as he is dismissed by the high priest. "If I might inquire, Your Highness," the older priest says slowly, "you had implied in your conversation with this young man that Chaos wanted you to find an object that carried his instructions for you…something supposedly 'impossible.' Is this the item you brought for Brother Justineus to read?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Might I ask the message?" the priest asks.

"It mentioned that I, as well as other Bearers, are being summoned to the Throne of the gods," I tell him. "The 'impossible' portion of the matter references the other Bearers that need to help me as no one Crystallum will open the gates, therefore making obeying the summons possible. The formal priesthood is not given mention as participants as of this time. I will let you know if that changes at a later time."

And the man flinches at this before regaining his composure. After centuries, the gods only broke their silence to tell the Bearers to do something. "And you intend to obey?"

"Of course," I tell him. "But timing is everything. I will not leave until it is time to do so, as it is in as poor taste to arrive months early as it is months late. If I leave right now, I am sure to do both. Now, if there is nothing else, please direct me to a person with a curse for me to lift as a return gift for Brother Justineus' services."

I am presently led into the basement where there dwells an Order priest my mother had turned into a dragon, years before. The priests do not explain why my mother had done this, and I do not ask. Removing the curse is a simple thing; I am done and ready to return home in only minutes. I step through the light, and I smile as step into my bedroom in the Marchen. I am eager to tell my husband and Parfait that the 'impossible' task can really be fulfilled, and still requires that we travel to the Throne of the gods. We have already taken the most needful actions, in getting other Bearers to help us get into the city, and hasten my mother's judgement.

We _can_ stop these cycles without my resorting to corruption, and my baby can still live. And it occurs to me…perhaps I should start considering what to name my child.

…

It is a pleasant, sunny day, and Waltz suggests we go on a walk in town before going out to eat at one of the nicer restaurants. I put on an illusion that gives me dark hair, a rounder face, and almost pouty lips that leaves only my eyes the same while my husband puts on his own disguise. He appears blond with a slightly longer face, tan skin, and a wider nose by the time he lets go of his spell. I have to look in his red eyes to remind myself that it is still him as I take his arm when we head out the back door of the Marchen.

I enjoy spending time with my husband when we have no goal more important than a meal, and relishing one another's company. He seems a little more relaxed since that day, several weeks ago, when I told him what the message the knife carried was. It is not just that it is possible to end this cycling in the next cycle that relieves him, but the fact that I _needed_ to be pregnant to have any chance at all in doing so.

He had been worried about putting me in additional danger since the loss of a child if the cycles continued could push me towards corruption, and he had been worried about the baby himself as well. Now he knows that it would be impossible to move the Tenebrarum to the Throne of the gods unless I could use magic, and that I needed to be pregnant during the transition to the next cycle to maintain my age and thus my magic. This child is the greatest boon he could have given me, rather than simply another source of stress.

The city bustles as it always does in fair weather, as my husband and I walk along as just a part of the throng of people. The hawkers are advertising their wares, there are conversations in the street as people pass friends and acquaintances, and the citizens of Angielle crowd the street as they go about their daily lives. There are also performers. We stop to listen to a group of musicians, and Waltz tosses a few coins in their cup when they are done with their performance. I do not carry any coin myself, as Waltz has some of the allowance Father gives him in his belt pouch.

"They were friendly to me," he tells me as we continue on our walk. "The fiddle player tried to teach me how to play music a little, before it became apparent that it was a skill I would never possess."

I smile up at my husband. "So, music is simply not among your many talents?"

Waltz laughs. "I can whistle, but that's about it. Do you still play the piano? I remember seeing you taking a lesson."

"Yes," I admit, "but it has been some time since I have played. About eleven years in fact; I have had other priorities during that time."

He chuckles. "I'll say you have," he says, as we turn to go down one of the side streets. Although there are not entertainments offered along this route, it feels pleasant to not be crowded on every side.

I pause feeling magic being used forward and to the left of where we stand, and further down the road to men emerge from an alley, running as if a lion was at their heels. The magic continues, Waltz and I look at each other, and we hurry down the road and turn down the ally, both of us holding our own magic just in case.

When we get into the alley, we find an old witch with grey hair kneeling over an old human man with blood on his head. As she works, the old man's bleeding from his head wound slows, and then stops. My husband sighs, and releases his magic. "Runia," he whispers to me, and I let go of my own magic.

"Quiet," she snaps, still concentrating on the unconscious man before her.

And I understand. This is the Witch Doctor.

Waltz and I wait quietly while Runia works, and then she begins to speak as she does so. "Those two ruffians were scared away by a simple bang, but not before they managed to give this poor man an injury when taking his coin. While the scalp wound looks serious, the actual problem is that there is bleeding between his skull and brain. If I do not relieve this pressure immediately and carefully, it will build and kill the patient. The best a human doctor could do would be to cut a hole in the skull and relive pressure that way, but the risk of infection would be high. I can heal the bleeding artery to stop the increasing pressure, and then vanish the blood that is already starting to clot. Instead of dying, my patient will only have a bad headache."

I nod, but say nothing. After all, she had asked for quiet, and it sounds like what she is doing is complicated. It is several minutes before she stops working, and nods as if satisfied. Then, she reaches into a large leather bag from beside her and withdraws a bandage she wraps around the human's head, stopping the last trickle of blood, grumbling about how suspicious humans get if they are ever completely healed from an injury like this.

Then, she shakes her patient. "Wake up, you old fool," she says, shaking the old man.

The man opens his eyes, and looks at her quite clearly startled, and he reaches for his head and touches the bandage.

"Yes, I bandaged it up. If you dare take that off in the next three days, I might hunt you down, and give you another scar for being such an idiot!" Runia tells him. "You are in no condition anymore to fight, and I'm guessing from the scars you already have that you used to! The most intelligent thing to do is to throw your purse on the ground far from you so they have to go and get it, and then run the other way before they can do anything else to you!"

The old man sighs, and his eyes flicker to where Waltz and I stand, but apparently he dismisses us as ordinary onlookers. "Thank you, madam, for your care. Sometimes I…just forget that I am not in the king's service with armor and sword anymore."

"Well," Runia tells him sternly, "hopefully that headache will give you reason enough to remember next time. I might not be there to keep you from bleeding to death again."

The old man winces as he carefully gets up. "Thank you again, madam. I…wish that I could reward your services, but they took my pension for the week."

I nod, understanding that this man was one of the foot soldiers in the army, at one time. They are not paid as well as the knights and officers, and so are given a pension dependent on their years of service once they have retired due to age or injury instead of being expected to save up for their old age themselves. It is enough to live on if it is used carefully, but it is not a comfortable retirement. I remember Father mentioning once that he would have liked to give such pensioners more, but he would have to raise taxes to do so, and Angielle was still trying to recover from the Great War at the time. War had closed many businesses, and he had decided to let commerce flow less restricted by taxes in order to allow those businesses to reopen, which meant there would be more jobs to be had. Many of the retiring soldiers were able to earn better coin in those reopening businesses than they would have had through even raised pensions anyway. Simply because a man could no longer lift a pike did not mean he could not pour candles or barkeep. But not all are able to find such jobs, or else are not fit for them for other reasons, so some are entirely reliant on their pensions.

I am not surprised when my husband empties the rest of his coin purse into his hand, and offers it to the man. "Here," Waltz says. "This should help replace what the thieves took."

The old man stares at the coins, and at my husband. "But kind sir," he tries to say, "that is more than they took from me, and from the condition of your wife, you may need it more yourself!"

I might not be showing a lot, but a more than casual glance at me reveals that I am quite probably pregnant. I was so slender before, that my baby belly is a little more obvious than it should be. "My father is well-off," I tell the man, "so I lack for nothing."

The man nods slowly, and takes the coin from Waltz. "If you say so milady, and thank you for your generosity." He turns back to Runia. "In this case…do you wish payment?"

"Three coppers to replace that bandage I gave you," Runia says. When the man has counted out three coppers to her, thanks us all again, and leaves, the Witch Doctor turns to stare at Waltz and I. "Apparently," she tells us, "you know who I am. And I haven't the foggiest notion who the two of you are."

"Lucette Britton, and this is my husband, Waltz," I say, and Runia's eyebrows raise. "We…are wearing illusions because we like to walk around without getting stared at, sometimes."

"Well," she says after a moment, "your father _is_ well-off, as well as several other things. And here I had been wondering if you said that just so he would take the coin." She looks me up and down. "I have been wanting to chat with you about something, Bearer. If you will follow me to my house, I can offer you refreshment. If you wish, I can take a look at your child and make sure he is healthy."

"Of course," Waltz answers, and I nod.

Runia nods as if she expected no other answer, and leads us to a small but well-appointed house about three blocks away, and once inside Waltz and I dismiss our illusions. In mere minutes, I am sitting in a comfortable chair in front of an unlit fireplace, with Runia in an identical chair beside me and Waltz completing the semi-circle in a wooden chair taken from the kitchen table. She serves ginger tea with small cookies before starting the conversation. "So, what does your father think about you coming into your abilities and marrying another witch, Bearer?"

"Since I am his daughter, I do not think that he judges me the same way he does most other witches. I do think he is a little uncomfortable," I answer, "but he is also very happy I do not appear to be following in my mother's footsteps."

"So is everyone else with a brain," Runia says bluntly. "We were all rather worried. Your reputation was one of a spoiled child at best. But then you married the man that had betrayed your mother to her doom, destroyed Myth—or at least, if rumors are true you did—and that show of power shook the corrupted witches enough to make them wary of you. So far, you appear to be behaving in a responsible fashion."

"How did you know that I did something to Myth?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I know a witch or two that are now attempting to fight their corruption. The corrupted witches know…knew…what 'Sir Mythros' really was, and one mentioned to me that he had gone missing. What _did_ you do to that lunatic, by the way?"

"I turned him into stone," I answer, remembering the last time I checked on him. "I told him repentance could break the curse, but the last time I looked in on him, he was talking to his bellybutton." He was still talking at that time, but coherence was lacking. I might have to do something else with him, soon.

Runia snorts. "A leopard cannot change its spots chi…Bearer," she corrects. "I cannot say that he does not deserve the fate you gave him, though."

The more I talk with her, the more I see that she is normally brusque with everyone. She is trying very hard to be at least somewhat respectful to me, and I wonder if it is because she respects my position even if she does not know me well enough to respect me, or if she wants something from me. "But you say you know a few witches that are attempting to fight their own corruption?"

"I said 'trying' Bearer," Runia restates. "Trying to get rid of that stain can take decades, and then it only works with consistent effort. But, if one does not even try, a thing really is impossible. In a way, the risk of corruption is the balance for the 'gift' of power magical beings possess."

Waltz frowns from beside me. "All magical beings? I have heard of fairies being corrupted in theory, but have never known of it actually happening."

"Then Hildyr obviously skimped on your historical education," Runia says. "It is very rare, since they get their magic from a much happier place than we do, but it _has_ happened before. When it does, it's usually tied to despair, with some depressed fairy finding herself unable to be who everyone expects her to be. Witches are naturally more susceptible, as we get our power from struggle rather than comfort. This is actually why there are no fairy healers…we need to draw the strength to heal from the physical and emotional pain of our patients in order to cure them. Fairies cannot draw power from suffering."

I nod. "I wish the gift of Healing was more widespread. The Witch Hunt might not have started if witches were valued for that skill more than they were feared."

" _Idiot_ humans," Runia practically spits. "Well, some of them are idiots, anyway. It's as rare as it is due to their own fears! My only daughter died during the Witch Hunt, and she was carrying a child at the time! I never found out if the mob that killed her knew she was a Healer or not, but she was unable to escape them!" She looks at me sharply. "You understand, my line carries…carried…skill, but not strength. It's a pity your line has no talent at Healing. Even the most obtuse human would not lay a hand on a witch under the protection of the king without hesitation. You might be able to heal enough people for the humans to decide that they like you."

"Out of curiosity," I ask, "how do your patients find you? I know that at least some of the doctors in the area know how to find you." If they did not, Chevalier would never have been able to procure her services.

"In public," she answers, "I am the aunt of Dr. Allen…a very skilled, well known, physician. It was his claiming me as his elderly aunt that saved me from the Witch Hunt. I am known for who and what I am by his associates, and it is not unusual for other doctors to come to him for advice on particularly unusual cases. It keeps me _very_ busy, but I am able to provide a good living for myself. I actually have better means than this house would suggest, but there is a certain comfort in discreetness that living modestly provides."

"I can imagine that being the only Healer would keep you busy," I tell her.

"Which is why I demand that the human physicians handle the easy cases, and come to me only with the difficult ones," she says.

"Do you ever…reprimand…them for seeking your help too often?" I ask, and Runia smiles.

"Ah, you are wondering about young Chevalier? That is actually his name, as I doubt that he has managed to find it yet," she admits. "No, he was not cursed for coming to me too often. The boy had no idea how to balance his work and personal life, was headed for burnout if I did nothing, and was simply too good of a physician to lose that easily." She pauses for a moment, taking a sip of her own tea. "It amazes me how many medical professionals…or would be medical professionals…do not realize that they can give nothing if they have nothing left. A lot of compassionate people want to make their livings taking care of the sick and injured, but let the suffering of those under their care affect them so much so they are unable to cope with the pain of others! You need to develop a thick skin or highly effective, nondestructive coping mechanisms yourself, if you want to be able to help anyone at all. Anyone that can't should not be in medicine."

"I assumed that you cursed him because you wanted him to take a good look at his life and his approach to it, so I have not removed his curse," I say, and Runia nods. I do not mention that he needs only one more entry to break his curse completely at this point. He seems…hesitant…to confront his ex-fiancée, since I told him what had ended their relationship. But if he wants the rest of his memories, he will have to find the courage and that is not something I can do for him.

"Thank you for that," the old witch tells me. "You have done him a favor by restraining your hand, and shown me that you have a brain, yourself. I am actually a little fond of the boy, in spite of his affinity for terrible puns no one else over the age of six thinks funny. He was one of Dr. Allen's apprentices, and he had asked me to keep an eye on the lad."

I nod, and take a sip of tea. The conversation has been so interesting, that I have been neglecting the cup in my hand. "You said that you wished to talk with me about something?" I ask, changing the subject now that I have actually had the conversation Father though I had had concerning Chevalier's curse with the witch that cursed him months ago.

"Yes," Runia says, nodding emphatically. "I know that you are going to be in contact with other Bearers soon, I heard about a call for someone willing to travel and be your emissary to them, and I wanted you to ask them if they might have anyone appropriate to apprentice to me. With my line ended, and my own advancing years, Angielle will be left entirely without any Healer at all before much longer. And I would not mind retiring if I could train an apprentice to take over. I believe that I have saved enough lives to have earned some rest in what is left of my golden years, myself. I honestly do not think I have many left."

I nod. "Asking about that will not be a problem. I would not like Healing to leave Angielle entirely, either."

"In that case Bearer," Runia tells me, satisfied, "feel free to call on me yourself for any needs of your own kith or kin directly."

"Thank you," I tell her, hoping that I will not need her services, just the same. But, relatively few of these cycles go by without bloodshed. It is usually a question of how much bloodshed, rather than if there will be any at all.

"Now, let's take a look at that baby," she says, pulling her chair closer to me. "Now, just relax," she tells me as she places her hands on my belly, and begins to weave her spells. When she is about half way through, her eyebrows raise, and she chuckles. "You sly dog," she cackles, glancing at my husband. "So, _that's_ what the hasty wedding was about. This baby is about a week older than the published date of your wedding."

Waltz shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Err…there was an _unpublished_ date Father does not know about," I admit.

Runia laughs softly as she continues to work. "Don't bother to explain, Bearer. I frankly do not care what your father does and does not know. I was young once myself, and I will keep that little tidbit secret."

"Thank you," Waltz and I say together.

The old witch merely smiles as she continues her work, and then the smile drops and she frowns. "What is it?" I ask, worried.

"Hush," she tells me, "I can fix…." And I remain as still as I can, hardly daring to breathe, as Runia does something _very_ focused. After a few minutes, her expression relaxes again. "He has a heart problem, but it is fixed for now. You should see me again maybe a month before he is born to ensure that the spell has stayed intact long enough for it to heal and grow properly. If he is born with that problem, he will only live a few hours before dying. But if that spell holds and everything else goes well, you should give birth to a strong baby. You should be able to start feeling him moving soon. If not…you can always call me."

"Thank you," I say, a bit shakily, wondering if I would be able to persuade Runia to come with me or not. I will still be traveling during the time she describes as appropriate for her visit. I exchange a worried look with Waltz, the both of us wondering if the spell repairing our son's heart will survive the entrance into the next cycle.

…


	46. An Old Enemy

**Chapter 46. An Old Enemy**

I relax into the couch of my father's parlor, next to my sister while my stepmother sits in a chair across from us, while my husband, father, and brother are at a table a few feet away from us, like they always are when my conversation with Ophelia turns specific to pregnancy symptoms. After a tiring afternoon in front of the Tenebrarum, this is a welcome change. But this morning had held a welcome event. Just like when Fulgur had agreed to help me, I saw an image of Regius as he agreed to do so as well. The regal, blond witch with piercing green eyes had been in a cavern full of crystals as he gave me his promise of aid.

The only unfortunate thing is that, unless Regius decides to bring them back himself, Delora and Karma will be unable to return all the way back to Angielle before the end of this cycle since it is now about two-thirds spent if it ends up lasting the normal time. I miss them…especially Delora…but I have the company of my family for now.

"It's a little strange," I tell Ophelia and Emelaigne. "The motions are soft, as if I had a butterfly in there." I pat my growing belly. I am not that large yet, but I was already so slender that my baby bump is growing more noticeable now. And Waltz and I have started discussing names. In truth, my firstborn should be named after one of my royal predecessors, which is how nations get multiple rulers with the same name. Which one to choose is the only issue, though neither of us want to name him after my royal grandfather, the man that had allowed the Witch Hunts to occur in the first place. Waltz suggested naming him after my father rather than a more distant king that I never knew, but…but I cannot deny that I have reservations about naming him after my father. I am not sure about naming my son after a man whose judgement I do not really trust. Waltz thinks that it might help me forgive my father for not being there when I needed him in the past if I did name the baby 'Genaro,' but I am not ready to commit to that name yet. I really need to think about it some more. As much as I love my father, he has some significant flaws that I hope my son will not share.

But I suppose that every other mortal has their flaws as well.

"That sensation is normal," Ophelia tells me with a smile. "Just wait until the kicking really starts. He'll probably keep you awake at night…Rod certainly kept _me_ awake when I was carrying him."

"He was getting a head start on his dancing, I suppose," I reply, which earns a chuckle from Ophelia.

I hear the door open, and a man in butler's livery places a tea tray on the table, bowing to Ophelia, who smiles at him. "You are new here," she says. "Welcome."

"Yes Your Majesty, thank you Your Majesty," he says, as he bows again, still facing her as he backs away to somewhere behind me.

"Mint tea again, though you are probably getting tired of it by now," Ophelia says, picking up the teapot to pour tea into three cups. "Still, I remember how…quickly practically anything else would go right through me when I was carrying."

I take one of the filled cups, and smelling it because I have grown to enjoy the scent of mint. Then I pause, noticing that in addition to mint, there is a slightly pungent order.

 _What it the world…._

She had ordered mint. There was mint, but with an addition. I use a quick spell to determine if it has been poisoned, realizing that I had forgotten to do that, and see filaments of red when I look at my cup instead of a wash of red to show poison or nothing if it was safe. What does _that_ mean?

Still, I should assume that the tea _has_ been poisoned since _something_ is abnormal.

Anxiety fills me, and I reflexively put up a shield around me. "Don't drink that!" I yell as I feel my husband casting a spell that goes above me just as my shield goes up. Ophelia gasps, and I carefully turn around to see the butler, frozen in frost, with a knife glinting in his hand. And then I get a second shock.

This is the very same man that tried to kill me during the last cycle, when Alcaster and Myth had staged an assassination to see my reaction to it. I cannot help but recognize his tan, rugged, and lined face. I look around to see Waltz on his feet. My father has his mouth open as if to call for guards, but Waltz has already sealed off the parlor with thick coats of frost on the doors and windows, and the other butler and the maid that stand near the door have their feet frozen in place as a precaution.

I dump the contents of the teapot out onto the tray, and find that there are yellowish brown roots mixed in with the mint leaves inside the tea strainer. I have to know what these are…I need to know who the intended target was.

"What…" Emelaigne tries to say, unsure of what just happened, as I open a portal into the Marchen and stick my head through to appear behind the counter of the dining room. Annice is standing there, and jumps.

"I need to see Rumpel, right now!" I tell her, and Annice squeaks and runs upstairs momentarily returning with my doctor. I grab him, and pull him into the portal so he stands in the parlor with the rest of my family who is now gathered around me. "Doctor," I ask him, "can you identify these roots?" I point at the roots that are scattered on the tray.

"Princess, you didn't…!" he exclaims, turning white.

"No, I didn't drink it," I tell him. "What are they?"

Rumpel relaxes a little bit, although he is still pale. "It's called dong quai. It has a variety of good medical uses and does not harm adults, but…it will cause a miscarriage. No doctor gives it to women of childbearing age if there is the faintest possibility they might become or already be pregnant."

Which is why my spell made it appear as filaments of red, instead of straight red. It was dangerous, not to me in specific…but it would have killed my son.

 _My baby._ Someone, and I have a pretty good idea who, is trying to kill my son. When I did not drink, the assassin decided to kill me instead. My heart aches, extra power goes into the portal I am maintaining making it wider, and I stamp down panic. Panic leads to disorientation, disorientation leads to death.

"Thank you doctor," I tell him, my voice much more cool than my emotions are. "You are dismissed." Rumpel bows to me, startles as he realizes the king is also present, and bows to him as well before walking back through the portal into the Marchen still quite shaken. He will tell Parfait what has happened.

I turn around to the rest of my family after letting the portal go, and making a now useless shield to pour excess magical power into before it can escape wildly. Ophelia, Emelaigne, and Rod appear to be in shock. My husband is still holding his magic and watching every direction as if for another source of attack even has he pulls me into him. My father is also pale, and appears to be shaking with rage. "Thank the gods you did not drink it, Lucette," he says, looking like he might have tried to take me into his arms if my husband had not beaten him to it.

"It goes without saying that you will find out how this happened?" I half ask, half state.

"Of course," my father says. "I'll summon Sir Alcaster to have this investigated right away, and the assassin will be questioned."

 _But Alcaster will not do a good job of investigating himself…._ "No. Pick Sir Alcaster's closest ranking underling, one that disagrees with him often enough to warrant notice…like Sir Willard perhaps?" I suggest. Sir Willard is the only ranking knight that I am sure that I remember as spellbound instead of Alcaster's willing ally. I am certain that there are others, but I would rather not take the gamble on the ones I am not sure if I remember well. In addition to that, Sir Willard has also distinguished himself recently in cleaning up the warehouse mess. Working with information provided by the warehouse manager, he had gone on to arrest more than a dozen individuals and had found evidence of their guilt in the matter…including the 'amiable' guard commander that had once been his underling.

My father's eyebrows rise. "If you are implying that Alcaster had something to do with this…."

"Not necessarily," I explain, "but the search should be thorough enough to net him if he did. What is important is that Sir Alcaster is in charge of security, and he failed." I cannot suggest that I know that Alcaster is at fault, but I can say that I think him remiss for this to have happened in the first place.

"And you wish to punish him by giving this to someone else?" my father asks.

I shrug. "While he might see the investigation of this matter, were it given to someone else, as a slight against him as punishment for his failure, if he is intelligent enough he will realize the necessity. Most men are blind to their own weaknesses, and if it were one of his own shortcomings that allowed this, another man could catch this better than he could himself."

My father nods. "And you want someone as different from him as possible to be in charge of the search, because he will have different weaknesses…different blind spots. And Sir Willard's handling of the warehouse matter made a favorable impression on you."

I nod. "This is correct."

My father frowns. "I am fairly certain that Sir Alcaster will see this as an undeserved affront against him…but your reasoning makes sense, and Sir Willard has achieved very satisfactory results in conducting investigations into criminal dealings, even before the warehouse. Very well. It shall be as you request. Sir Willard it is."

"Good," I say, satisfied that the man that quite probably attempted to murder my son will not be in charge of catching himself. "And Father, do not let anyone change your mind. If nothing else, Alcaster's negligence very nearly allowed your grandson to die."

My father grimaces as if coming to terms with an uncomfortable truth, but the frown fades as he turns to my husband. "You acted quickly. Thank you."

"I will always protect my wife and child. You did not entrust your daughter to someone without the capability to defend her," Waltz tells him. "And…there was something about him that raised my suspicions. He looked right at me after putting the tea down, his hand in his coat where I now know he had his knife, and he seemed…disappointed…as if he was hoping for someone else."

"Maybe the knife was meant for you," I say as I shiver. "The tea for my baby…and the knife for my husband was how it was originally intended. But when he saw that I did not drink…." _Of course I expect people to try to kill_ me. _I am the heir to the throne, and a witch to boot! But Waltz and the baby…._

And then I know. Sir Decimond was correct. Alcaster _is_ trying to corrupt me, but his assassin may not necessarily share his priorities which is why I did not make the connection immediately. The assassin might have been told that those roots were fatal to witches, or some such. I was the primary target, but what the assassin though would happen and what Alcaster meant to happen to me differed.

"We will find out Lucette," my father promises. "I will have the guards take the assassin for questioning tonight. I intend to be there myself."

And I would be surprised if that questioning revealed a direct link to Alcaster. After all, the man had tried to kill me when I was right next to Alcaster during the last cycle. Why would an assassin kill someone when the person that presented the opportunity was right there? He would know that it would have been much easier for Alcaster to kill me himself. The only question in my mind is if they were communicating with the use of dead drops, or the use of an intermediate agent.

"The spell will thaw out in about a half hours' time," Waltz says, unfreezing the main doors to allow my father to exit, as well as dismissing the spell holding the still shocked servants stationary by the door.

My father sticks his head out of the door to summon those he needs, and it is not long before my father leaves the parlor entirely. The assassin is carried away, still frozen, by several guards, and the servants that were present for the 'excitement' of the evening following in their wake so their written testimony can be obtained before memory fades. A heavily increased number of guards are stationed outside the parlor for our safety, but only my family remains in the room.

Waltz lets me go to check the frost barriers he has left in place on the windows, as they will give any potential archers a harder time in seeing us just in case there are some of those about as well. His movements are tense…grim, and his eyes angry. We will probably have a long conversation once we return home, but for now he keeps his silence. Rod returns to sitting at the table, occasionally getting up to pace for a few minutes before returning to his seat, his hands balled into fists once more. He knows that there is nothing he can do in this matter, and I know that he hates the helplessness of it. Ophelia sits in her chair across from me near the fire, her eyes occasionally wandering to where the tea set still sits. Sometimes, she opens her mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again. She simply does not know what to say. Emelaigne…my stepsister sits on the floor itself directly in front of the fire staring into it…and she looks too shocked to weep, but I know that tears will start coming soon.

I pick up two pillows from the sofa, giving her one and placing the other next to her and lower myself on top of it. She merely looks at it for a moment, before taking the pillow and stuffing it under her bottom.

"I…I don't know how…how you can…how _they_ can…" Emelaigne tries to get out, chocking back a sob before she finally starts dissolving into tears. "Your baby!"

"It's not about my baby," I say, my hand over my abdomen where my son still thrives, the butterfly movements reassuring me. "In all likelihood, they were after more than that."

" _What?_ " she tries to ask, between hiccups from her tears.

I offer her my spare handkerchief, and she takes it and uses it to dry her eyes. Then she looks at me in wonder, as if just realizing that I nearly had my baby killed, and _I_ am drying _her_ tears rather than the other way around.

"If you want to try to corrupt a witch," I explain to her, "you murder her children, her spouse…anyone that she loves. You cause bitterness, cause hate…and even if these emotions are justified, if the witch performs magical actions thriving on the hatred by working through corruption, she will be given its taint. Ironically, love can make a witch vulnerable to corruption."

Emelaigne stares at me in horror. "But to kill a _baby_!"

"The babies and young children of witches were killed in the Witch Hunts, with the justification that they would only turn into full-fledged witches one day. Everyone knows this, even though many try to gloss over it," I tell her gently. "The innocent and the helpless are always the first to suffer in great tragedies. The irony of the Witch Hunts is that the human populace _caused_ the corruption of many witches while they were seeking to exterminate 'dangerous' witches. _They_ were the very ones that influenced the witches to become dangerous, and sowed the seeds of war." I sigh, and shake my head. "In this case, someone _desires_ my corruption either because if I were corrupted my own death would be 'necessary,' or else they prefer a corrupted witch to rule Angielle instead of Father…or even myself as I am. If I were to become corrupt, I would be unlikely to wait until Father retires voluntarily or dies a natural death to take the throne. Father needs to be especially careful to watch his own back, as well."

"Why would anyone want you to become corrupted?" she asks quietly.

"Men thirst for power," I tell her. "Many will use it to advantage themselves at the expense of others, and this is the very essence of evil. A ruler that will allow such behavior is one that engages in it herself, and no tyrant rules by him or herself. There is always a cluster of people supporting the tyrant for whatever reason, that enforce the tyrant's will. Perhaps the mastermind behind tonight wishes to be among that cluster."

Emelaigne shivers, even sitting in front of the still roaring fire. "I…I just don't know what would have to happen to someone for them to think or behave that way."

"While circumstances may influence someone, simply being a victim is not an excuse for being tainted by evil," I tell her. "You always have a choice, whether it be a hard or an easy one…and evil begets more evil. While there are always a few people that are nearly all good, and a few that are nearly completely evil, most others fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum with both good and evil tendencies and leaning towards one side or the other is an everyday choice." I stop, and blink, looking at her. "Surely I am not saying anything that is new to you."

My sister sighs. "But if everyone could just be kind to each other, and everyone could be happy…."

"It won't happen, and it is naive to believe that it ever will in this mortal lifetime," I tell her, wondering if I am about to finally burst her bubble. "It's not a comfortable truth, but people will not simply stop arguing, fighting, and killing each other and simply 'be kind' to one another. Mortals are simply born tainted, and to believe otherwise is childish. Surely you noticed this, just from the warehouse.

"Even 'good' people simply fail sometimes," I tell her, "they have their moments of weakness as well. You can only be responsible for your own actions, try to make the best choices you can, and attempt to make up for it when you make mistakes anyway."

"You see me as a child," Emelaigne whispers. "The warehouse was hard enough to see…but to kill a baby that never did anything to anyone…."

I sigh. She really _is_ a child in some ways. Perhaps the only reason she and Waltz are not even more alike is that Waltz has seen so much more evil than she has; he has had to deal with what she has never experienced. "I see you as a younger sister, in spite of the fact that you are technically older than I. Our upbringings were different, and there are painful truths a princess must acknowledge earlier than a baker's daughter, which explains the discrepancy in our maturity levels even given the difference between our ages. You are a kind, sweet soul…and I think it would be tragic for you to lose that. Keep trying to help others as you can, but try to be judicious so you do not enable bad behaviors or overextend yourself. You can give nothing if you have nothing left."

"Lucette," Ophelia says softly from behind me, "you sound as if you have aged ten years in a few months."

"I'm fairly certain that I have. Nothing ages people faster than responsibilities," I answer her.

"And even after this… _this_ …I don't even see a single tear on your face," Emelaigne whispers, shocked, as she searches my expression. "I don't know how you don't cry…especially after _this_! Don't tell me that you feel nothing!"

"I weep every day, Emelaigne," I say quietly, and her expression softens. "But I do it where I feel safest; I just seldom cry outside of my husband's arms. It's safer that way."

"You are safe in our arms as well, Lucette," Ophelia tells me, "if you ever want them."

I take a deep breath. "But you might not be. The Tenebrarum gives me extra power when I am upset, so I have to have a spell already in progress or else it bleeds into the air as a form of lightening like it did that first day, when I started using magic. This will continue until the Tenebrarum is completely repaired…this is how I have been fixing it…by dredging up every horrible, painful thing I have ever seen or experienced again and again and dwelling on them. It feeds off of me to heal itself, and 'rewards' me with extra power as I nourish it."

My stepmother pales. "We never knew." She pauses for a moment. "Then…the reason you only weep when you and your husband are alone is because he is the only one of us that you might not kill on accident if you make a mistake?"

I nod, and I sigh. "Were you a fairy or a witch, or the Tenebrarum more stable, I would take you up on your offer, but as it is…." I can only stamp down the pain for so long before I must acknowledge it. "Waltz, I have work to do."

"You have never tried to work with something this fresh," my husband reminds me. "You will have to be _extremely_ careful."

"I know," I say, thinking of a particularly deep crack I think I can heal with this…when I allow myself to dwell on the fact that my child was just nearly murdered, that someone had probably intended to kill Waltz as well. I might have lost them both. I call on my power, making a portal into the room where the Tenebrarum is kept, and my husband follows me through before I let the spell go.

The Crystallum fills my vision just before tears begin to blur it.

 _My baby! I almost lost my son…AND Waltz!_

And unbidden power fills me as my body racks with sobs, and I stream it off into another useless, harmless spell. Tonight, my husband weeps with me even as he carefully monitors me. For perhaps the first time, he is fully experiencing the same pain that I am with me.

….

It is very late when I compose myself and we leave the Tenebrarum and the secret passages, but the air in the palace still seems tense. A nervous servant tells me that my father is within his study if I wish to see him before I retire for the night. I nod, and do not take my husband's arm as we go just in case he needs it for spellcasting as we walk towards the study. On the way there, we practically run into Alcaster as we turn a corner. He looks angry, and for a moment neither of us move as we are in each other's way.

As if he expects _me_ to move out of _his_ way, especially after he has tried to murder my husband and my son! The _gall_ that man has!

"Princess," he finally says, gruffly, as he finally makes a motion to go around me.

"It occurs to me," I coolly tell him before he can get past me, "that you have never shown me the deference owed the Crown Princess, and now that I am married you no longer have the excuse of my minority."

He stops, and very stiffly turns to face me. "Excuse me, Princess," he says between gritted teeth as he gives me the most infinitesimal bow acceptable before continuing on his way.

At least I know that my father has kept to his word, and not given Alcaster charge of the investigation. And I also know that the opening salvo has been fired; Alcaster and I will be honest enemies rather than false friends this cycle.

When we reach father's study, there are half a dozen guards stationed outside as well as a bleary-eyed, but nervous, servant I recognize. My father is talking to Sir Willard in private if even the king's personal butler waits outside the study. Still, no one stops me or Waltz as we approach, and I knock on the door. "Father, may I come in?" I ask.

It is only seconds before the door opens, and the knight with grey eyes and salt and pepper hair opens the door, offering us a bow as we enter the room, and then closes the door behind us. It has not been all that long since I last saw him in the days following the warehouse incident, and his eyes are just as sharp now as they were then.

Instead of sitting behind his large mahogany desk, my father stands as he leans against it. In spite of the hour, he is not relaxed enough to sit…therefore, no one else can either. Well, I might be able to get away with sitting in the king's presence, but the protocol would bend for no one outside of the royal family. "What have you found out, so far?" I ask the two older men.

"The assassin believed that the roots were poisonous to witches, we haven't told him otherwise, and he had also been intending to kill your husband," my father tells me grimly as I come to stand before him. "The assassin was…disappointed…that Waltz was not the one he was expecting."

"Myth," Waltz says from behind me. "Everyone knows that I was Hildyr's apprentice now, but few know that she had two of us."

"And apparently he has some reason for wanting Myth dead," my father admits. "When he saw that Waltz was not who he had expected him to be, and that you had noticed that there was something wrong with the tea, he decided to stab you instead. We have been unable to discern, as of yet, if he was acting on his own or if he had inside help. We are thinking of employing a truth serum."

"Parfait can provide one," my husband offers. "If she starts tonight, it should be ready tomorrow."

"If he did have inside help," I add, wondering if Parfait still has the potion originally intended for Myth, "I would not put it past that person to ensure poison is 'mislabeled' as a truth serum already in our stores…so it would be necessary to use a trusted source such as the Lucis Bearer. I would also recommend feeding both the prisoner and the guards the same meal at the same time, and randomizing which meal they get. This will help prevent him from being poisoned before his information is extracted…though it might carry the risk of both prisoner and guards dying. Anyone ruthless enough to kill an unborn infant will also care little about the lives of guardsmen. Another likely possibility is that the prisoner may be killed 'escaping' if a guard in the pocket of the mastermind purposefully slips him a key to his cell."

My father goes stiff for a moment. "That…is certainly something to consider, though I am unsure how you came up with that."

"Start with preparing for the worst case scenario," I tell him. "Assume that he had help that is highly placed in the palace. If the has any information that can be used to help track the mastermind, this mastermind will attempt to dispatch the assassin. He was obviously already considered disposable; attacking a witch is a good way to take one's life in one's own hand."

"You have suspicions concerning someone of an elevated position within the palace?" my father asks carefully. "Perhaps someone that has served for years?"

"How many years," I ask my father, "did I believe that I knew my own mother before I found the truth? And there is the case of 'Sir Mythros' to consider. At this point, no one should be ruled out as a suspect, no matter how long they have served."

My father looks faintly sick. "You have a point in that." He shakes his head at me. "She ensured that you trusted no one beside her while she lived, and even now…."

"I can't seem to escape her, even with her dead," I admit. Will I ever be able to escape my mother, and what she has done not only to me, but to those around me? I just do not know. "But do not tell me that I should be more trusting on the day someone tries to murder my husband and my son. You can guess as well as I can that the perpetrator took action with the intention of corrupting me; of creating circumstances in which another corrupt Tenebrarum Bearer would be queen of Angielle given that deaths of family members tends to be a reliable factor in corrupting a witch. Only someone that already has power could benefit in any way from that, and from the looks of that assassin, he has spent most of this life laboring outdoors. He was merely a tool."

If my father looked faintly sick before, he appears quite ill now. He knows that I am right; there is a traitor in Angielle's upper ranks. My expression softens, becoming less severe. "Why don't you get to bed?" I ask him, softly as I glance at the clock. "There is nothing more you can do tonight, and it is only a few hours until sunrise."

My father lets out a deep breath. "Am I a doddering old man now, that my daughter needs to tuck me in after a long day?"

"Not yet," I tell him with a small smile. "But if I have my way, you will live that long, and I will be there with you still. In the meanwhile, you are fully capable of putting yourself to bed."

My father sighs, gives me a kiss on the cheek, tells my husband to watch out for both me and himself, and gives Sir Willard a nod in return for the knight's bow before leaving the study.

After the doors close, the knight makes as if to take his leave, but I hold up a finger to stop him.

"Your Highness?" Sir Willard asks me, curiously.

"I have some additional instructions," I tell him, and the knight's brow furrows.

"Instructions you do not wish your father to be aware of, Princess?" he asks carefully. "Unless you have a _very_ good reason, Your Highness, I cannot guarantee that I withhold anything from the king."

I give him a very slight nod. "I have a reason to suspect Sir Alcaster, but no physical proof…and my father trusts him too blindly. You are probably aware that there were two knights that brought a concern regarding him to my father over a year ago, and were…dismissed as was their testimony."

"Meaning that you have additional information leading credence to their claims, or you have found something unrelated to their case yourself that points to Sir Alcaster as the guilty party concerning tonight's…events?" he asks, and I smile. Not only is this man loyal to my father, but he is intelligent as well. He reached seniority because he deserved it.

"Both, but things discovered by magic are not legal evidence in a court of Angielle," I tell him. This is true, and an acceptable pseudonym for my cycling. The knight would probably assume that I was scrying tonight to find the guilty party, and had succeeded, but that I now need physical evidence. And I know that investigations take time…which might slow Alcaster down by forcing him to take more care in his actions in order to hide them. Until the Tenebrarum is fixed and I have affirmative answers from _all_ of the other Bearers, Alcaster needs to be slowed. "The only physical evidence I can supply you with is a list of knights Sir Alcaster had private communications with. Fritz gave it to me before I sent him on an errand. I will keep the original in a safe place, in case it is needed as evidence, and give you a copy." And I am happy that I have already made one out to give him. I had been sure that I would need it, eventually.

Sir Willard nods slowly. "That…might give me a starting point as to whom I can and cannot trust, should Alcaster be guilty as you suspect. Would you consider the magical methods used in your discoveries…infallible?"

 _I saw him betray my father again and again with my own eyes…I saw that he was involved when that man tried to kill me last time._ "As good as witnessing acts of treason with my own eyes," I answer.

"And you are certain Alcaster's son was…completely forthright in his list?"

"If you are concerned about if he would try to either protect his father or falsely accuse him," I say, "he would do neither. I would not say that he is on poor terms with his father, as much as a relationship between the two of them simply does not exist in spite of their shared blood. The reason he knows of these communications is because he was hand-carrying the letters himself, but Fritz can be forgetful at times so the list may not be complete. However, he has never lied to me."

"Very well, Your Highness," Sir Willard tells me. "I will wait until you deliver the list to put together my team of investigators."

I nod. "It might be useful to purposefully place one person on that list on your team, and feed him false or irrelevant information to appease Alcaster. He will probably try to have someone of his placed on your team, and be more suspicious than he already is, if you do not. Sometimes, it's better to know who the mole is. And…pick the person on the list that has been recently been promoted with the least amount of merit. That would be someone he has convinced to join him, and then rewarded for doing so, as opposed to someone he is still working on."

"I…will take that suggestion into account, Your Highness," he says, eyeing me warily. "One would think you had experience in a court much more…cutthroat…than the one your father keeps."

"Remind me to tell you about what happened to Mythros sometime," I tell him. "There is more to the story than my father has told, but he was the only servant of my mother's that I have managed to uncover, personally." Sir Willard pales slightly, and I get an idea. "What if we were to present the assassin with the man he actually _meant_ to kill?" I ask. "Sir Mythros was actually Myth, my mother's loyal apprentice. I cursed him when he attempted to corrupt me, turning him to stone."

"I…do not know what might happen," Sir Willard admits. "I have never tried to interrogate someone by presenting them with their intended victim. Legally…your father has given you discretion in how to deal with corrupted witches, and if whatever you intend to do is part of his sentence there would be no legal problems with your idea. I suppose it might unhinge the assassin, depending on the reason he wanted to kill Mythros…Myth. We could find out something additional."

"I will go get him in that case," I say, and I hear my husband nervously shifting behind me. He does not like me being so close to my assassin. Or perhaps he believes that it might be dangerous to give Sir Willard too much to go on, that the investigation might be wrapped up too quickly. This is a risk, but so is letting the trail go cold and leaving Alcaster with nothing to worry about. He would feel more free to move if this could be blamed on someone else, or if there were no hounds following his trail at all. I judge this worth the risk involved. "You should be aware, though…the man has gone completely insane. He does little except cackle." Myth does not even have incoherent speech, now.

"Which might unhinge the assassin even more," Sir Willard admits.

"Meet us in the dungeon in a few minutes," I say, and then open a portal to the secret passages as Sir Willard bows to me before I step through.

…

 _Author's note:_

 _I have gotten several questions about how much other witches will or could remember in upcoming cycles. First of all, Lucette is the one directly affected by the spell or action taken by the gods that is allowing time to cycle, so she remembers everything. If another witch or fairy makes a covenant with or promise to her that creates a pact between them, the other witch/fairy will remember everything that specifically deals with that promise in upcoming cycles if the covenant remains unfulfilled._

 _Earlier in the story, I gave the example of why Waltz did not remember getting engaged to Lucette, and that was because they had fulfilled the terms agreeing to marry by getting married. He did remember the wedding itself, interacting with his new in-laws, and the wedding night which are all connected to the covenant of marriage that he is in with Lucette. If/when the next cycle starts, he will continue to remember everything that has significant connection to their marriage (unless he dies, because death dissolves marriage contracts). He will remember falling in love with her very well, but the protocol lessons may be more than a little fuzzy because they have less to do with their marriage than falling in love does._

 _The other Bearers will remember their agreement to help Lucette get through the gates and into the Throne of the gods, and that they need to leave their homes with all reasonable haste to get there once they find that the calendar has reset itself. Regius and Fulgur actually have their bedroom furniture rearranged, so they will notice the change directly when they wake up and know that it is time to get ready to leave home. Alicula (once she agrees) really does not think about these things so she has made no different arrangements and one day in the woods is pretty much like the next (Fulgur knows that he will probably have to collect her on the way there), and Veles has yet to make Lucette any sort of a promise._

 _However, no one except Lucette will remember anything not connected to a specific promise. For example, if Delora promises to make Lucette cookies when she turns nineteen, during the next cycle Delora will only remember that she promised that she would make Lucette cookies and when. She would be completely baffled as to how this promise occurred, and will not remember the cycling at all because it has nothing to do with making cookies after the cycling presumably would have stopped._

 _The reason Myth remembers as much as he did was because he made a covenant with Lucette (not forcing her to release Hildyr in exchange for Lucette marrying her mother's apprentice), he journaled about his logic surrounding this decision (which was directly linked to the promise so he could remember it, because he wanted to remember his rationale during the upcoming cycle if she did not accept corruption before time reset), and took actions that he intended to result in the fulfillment of part of their agreement (preparing for the wedding by attempting to collect -his- bride, etc.). Because his side of the agreement was not fulfilled because it was still possible for him to refrain from forcing Lucette into releasing Hildyr once she reset with the cycle, he remembered every action involving the agreement. Now, he does not remember things that do not involve that agreement that occurred between making the promise and his death, like what he had for breakfast that morning for example._

 _Well…perhaps I should change the verbiage to things he remembered at the start of the cycle. Right now, he really is a basket case. But we'll see more concerning that in the next chapter._

 _I hope this clears things up for you all!_

 _*leaves cookies out for the readers/reviewers*_

 _P.S. I still answer reviews. ;)_


	47. An Interrogation

**Chapter 47. An Interrogation**

"Lucette, is this a good idea?" Waltz asks me as we make our way towards the side room where I have Myth stashed.

"If Alcaster has any brains at all, the assassin will not live long enough for a truth serum to arrive," I tell him. "The next change of guard will probably be his men, and will dispose of the prisoner using one of the methods I mentioned, or a variation thereof. The next change of guard is at dawn. If we don't do something to shake his tongue loose right now, his words will die with him. Alcaster is probably trying to discretely change the guard schedule at this moment to ensure only his men will be present for guarding the prisoner at dawn."

"And the guards that will witness this? Or do you consider it irrelevant?" he asks me.

I open the door, and hear wild laughter. The person that was Myth is gone now…it would be a mercy to kill him at this point. "It is irrelevant if their memories of this session are erased. And Myth…as you have not repented before managing to go insane, as Bearer I declare your sentence to be death at the hands of a human," I tell him as I levitate the stone witch and make another portal to the bottom of the dungeon stairs. Myth gives no response except for the continuation of his insane laughter. When I get through, I hear steps coming from above me and see Sir Willard hurrying down the stairs with Clerk Tuttle carrying a lap desk in his arms. "Good timing," I tell him. And he made a good choice of an assistant as well. Fortunately, the man had apparently been working another one of his 'late nights,' or even had been sleeping at his desk, to be available for this duty.

"I decided to take you literally, Princess," the knight answers me.

"It is an honor…to serve you again, Your Highness," Tuttle tells me.

I note that in spite of his age, Sir Willard is not out of breath, although Tuttle behind him appears to be. Sir Willard has not been putting his feet up on a desk for certain. "Then let's go. I want to talk to the assassin for a moment without him seeing Myth, and then put the lunatic in the next cell as far on the opposite side as you can."

"Yes, Your Highness," the knight answers reaching for a torch on the wall to light the way, but I make a ball of light that floats above and in front of me to light our way, and he returns the torch to its place shaking his head slightly. Sir Willard is obviously unused to magic, and I make no pretense or apology concerning the fact that I am a witch. Tuttle, who has seen me use magic before, takes my use of it in stride. Waltz takes care of levitating his former rival, staying several paces behind us. When we reach a cell with half a dozen guards on duty outside of it, Sir Willard motions them out of the way. "The princess wishes to address the prisoner."

I walk forward, and look into the cell. The man sits cross legged on the floor against the far wall, but he appears awake and alert. "I wanted to know," I ask, "why you tried to corrupt me instead of kill me, and _then_ tried to kill me."

"Corrupt you?" he asks brashly. "I wanted you _dead_."

"Perhaps _you_ did," I tell him, "but whomever provided you with those roots did not. They are not toxic to adults, witch or otherwise…but are likely to cause miscarriages. Given that the surest way to corrupt a witch is to kill a family member of theirs, your actions might have led to my corruption but not my death. How to corrupt a witch in this fashion is a lesson all of Angielle learned from the Witch Hunt, and the Great War."

The prisoner is on his feet in a flash, staring at me when I tell that his actions were not congruent with his purpose. Of course…he was not able to hear my doctor tell the rest of us that the roots were abortive rather than poisonous with his ears frozen, and no one corrected him during his formal interrogation.

"You might have made me into what my mother was," I tell him, and he practically runs to the bars, grabbing them with tight fists as he stares at me. "Surely you had no love for her, to try to replicate her."

"You look like her," he finally says.

"And I intend to never act like her," I tell him. "In aid of that, who was helping you within the palace? Who gave you those roots? I can stomach that someone might want to kill _me_ , but you will understand if I wish to stop the person that intends to corrupt me by killing my baby. I would be much more dangerous corrupted than dead. Is attempting to ensure a repeat of my mother's reign something you really want? It is obviously want the person responsible for granting you this opportunity wanted. Do you truly believe that my baby should die to atone for my mother's crimes? Should children that have done no wrong be allowed their lives, regardless of who their ancestors were?"

He shudders and a haunted guilt passes behind his eyes, but his mouth shuts with a click. I turn to motion my husband to bring the laughing statue, and the guard to unlock the next cell over. "Wait…wait…I recognize that laughter," the assassin says, his face draining of blood as if remembering something horrific, staring at the statue he can see clearly beneath my bright light.

"She had two apprentices," I tell him. "My husband Waltz who betrayed her, and my enemy Myth who did not. She left him contingency plans to attempt to corrupt me, and when he tried to carry out these plans, I cursed him."

The laughing lunatic is placed on the far side of the next cell, which is then unnecessarily locked, away from the prisoner who roars obscenities at him as he runs to the bars separating their cells and starts to shake them.

As if he could get into the next cell by manually tearing down the bars.

Sir Willard and Clerk Tuttle are seated at a small table with pens ready in case the prisoner admits anything. I let the raging go on for a few minutes until I hear something that I had never known.

"His daughter?" I ask, surprised. "That repulsive madman had a daughter?"

"She's dead…just like everyone else," the prisoner says, as if pronouncing that the sun had gone missing. "He used my daughter as a tool to punish me, forced her, and then your mother did even worse. They are all dead now…I buried every last one and _I_ was the only one that did anything wrong."

And I have to stop myself from shivering. It _always_ comes back to that monster I once called 'Mother!' But what I say is, "Interesting. I had not heard that before, and I can appreciate new information." I use magic to scoot the cackling statue a few inches closer to the prisoner, away from the far wall of the cell.

From then on, I let the prisoner scream a little, and ask him a question from the list Sir Willard has on the table, and he and the clerk write down the answers as I scoot Myth closer to the prisoner's reach. We start with the questions of lesser consequence, and move toward the greater. We make good progress, and when Myth is almost close enough for the prisoner to brush him with his fingertips, the prisoner sighs. "What's the use? He's made of stone now. I couldn't hurt him if I tried…he's cursed just like me. You are toying with me…just like your mother did."

I blink, and my second sight does confirm that the prisoner is cursed. His curse is black as midnight indicating that it was capable of causing death…but does not look…virulent. It looks as if the power of the curse has been spent. "As Bearer, I sentenced him to death at the hands of a human for crimes committed during the Great War, and afterwards. I do want your information, and as your family appears to have been among his victims, you would be a suitable executioner. You only need to knock him over so his head breaks from his body to kill him. As I am attempting to avoid my own corruption, I want to know who desires it. You must pay for your chance to dispense justice."

"And why do you offer me this chance?" the prisoner says slowly, as if he thinks this opportunity a strange gift, considering that he meant to kill me.

"You did not attempt to kill my husband, although you had intended to," I answer.

"He wasn't the one I wanted to kill," the prisoner admits. "He was the wrong man…and I only knew that the man I wanted to kill was Hildyr's apprentice, but not his name. It was plausible that the fiend had turned on Hildyr to gain you, becoming the turncoat your father rewarded with your hand. I had not considered she might have had a second apprentice, and if your husband did help defeat Hildyr…I owe him a great debt."

 _You and everyone else owe Waltz a debt…though you are the first to have tried to repay it by murdering his wife and son._ But I nod, as if that made sense. He should have tried to lay eyes on Waltz at least once before trying this, to ensure he was not trying to kill the wrong person at least once before attempting the assassination. Quite obviously, this man is not professional cutthroat.

Alcaster wanted me broken, grieving, corrupted…and himself in charge of catching the 'mastermind' who would dare to hire this man to attempt the assassinations. Once corrupted, it would prove easy for him to convince me to supplant my father…and he would be more than willing to help in the matter. But now Sir Willard has charge of the hunt…and Alcaster can only wonder if I believe him complicit or incompetent to have given the role of investigator to another. Either way…he knows now that gaining my aid in overthrowing the king has become impossible. Even if I became corrupted through some other means, the _best_ that would happen to him would be instant dismissal once I came to power whether I thought him responsible for tonight or merely an idiot.

No…Alcaster will not try to corrupt me again. He now has to move his secondary plan forward. And I have to put Sir Willard on his trail to slow him.

"And to be able to kill the correct man…tell me," I say, looking at the last question on Sir Willard's list, "who found you a position or disguise within the palace? Who gave you those roots, or helped you in any other way? If you do not know the names, give me their appearances, and the actions they took to help you carry out your purposes."

The prisoner sighs and gives detailed descriptions of two individuals, though neither one matches Alcaster, and recites the list of supplies and instructions he was given. Alcaster was obviously using intermediaries…which are easier to trace than dead drops. "That is all I can tell you," he finally says. "I don't know who their master was, but I am certain that he means to kill me before I can go to trial." 

"That would not surprise me," I tell him as I move Myth next to the bars, and raise the stone in the cell's floor to form a ledge so no matter which way he falls, his head will hit and his neck snap. "But you knew your life forfeit when you attacked me. My father would have had you executed once you were tried, even if your master did not kill you before then."

The prisoner looks at me, his energy seemingly spent. "You have a little mercy anyway, witch. You allow me to die with my family avenged." He pushes Myth over, through the bars, and the statue's head comes off as it hits raised stone. The laughter stops, and I feel a momentary but fierce, sharp pain in my own neck as I feel the death of another witch when Myth's body reappears momentarily before turning into dust. "Hildyr is dead…and now he is as well. It…is finally over."

He says that…and I cannot help but think that maybe it is not over. Will he try to kill me again during the next cycle too? What atrocity did my mother and her faithful apprentice commit against this man? I want to ask that question too, but I have a duty to attend to, and time might be running out.

The prisoner returns to sitting against the wall, as I found him, and I turn around to face the speechless guards. "You have a choice, gentlemen," I tell them. "You can swear on your own lives not to breathe a word of this to anyone but Sir Willard, my husband, or myself unless in the court of law. Your other alternative is to have your memories erased if you are unprepared to take such an oath. His master, whoever he might be, will not only want to silence him, but anyone that heard him speak if he learns that this conversation took place, and it would not surprise me if it was someone currently close to my father. If even one of you slips, all of your lives might be in danger. Choose."

The guards look warily at each other. "I would swear, Your Highness," one says, "but I know that I say things I shouldn't when I've had too much to drink. I wouldn't trust myself to keep mum."

I nod. "His Highness will take care of you."

Three of the guards swear, and the other three decide to have their memories altered instead. Waltz tends to the first, and he slumps next the wall, asleep. I tell one of the sworn guards to wake him after we leave so he thinks he was sleeping during his shift. I do not make Tuttle swear any oaths, as he has already tried to die for me before, only asking for his word which he freely gives. While Waltz tends to the memory modification of the three guards, I return the cell floor back to normal, put out the magic light I have been holding, and disperse the pile of dust. I notice the prisoner wearing a small, satisfied smile as Myth's remains are given such disrespectful treatment. I have no plans to grant Myth a formal resting place; some maid tasked with cleaning the dungeon floor will eventually sweep him all up and dump his remains with the rest of the refuse.

In the swirling dust on the floor, I notice a key and pick it up to look at it. I recognize it as a copy of the key to the secret entrances throughout the palace, and pocket it for my own use. I spend a lot of time down there, and making portals or finding the doors opened by magic instead is not always convenient.

And with that, it is almost six in the morning, and time for the changing of the guard. I hear footfalls on the steps just as Waltz finishes taking care of the last guard, and I open a portal to my father's study and Sir Willard, Clerk Tuttle with all the papers, Waltz, and I go through before the next shift sees us.

Once there, Clerk Tuttle bows and leaves the room once I have thanked and dismissed him after the evidence of testimony has been placed in the senior knight's capable hands. "It has been another eventful, unconventional day, Your Highness," Tuttle says as he leaves me. "And I would not trade it for any amount of coin. And…thank you for recommending me to your father as well. My new duties more than keep me busy, but my work has never been more fascinating."

And I can only assume that he means that my father took my recommendation to make him his new intelligence minister. That it has not been published anywhere can only mean that my father believes that the role should remain…surreptitious. I do not disagree with that decision, though I might have made the man my private secretary so it would not seem odd to everyone else for us to be seen talking often. "I recommended nothing that you did not deserve," I tell him. "I am pleased that you find your work gratifying."

After Tuttle leaves, Sir Willard turns to look at me, and shakes his head. "That was the most unusual interrogation session I have ever witnessed, Princess."

"But you now have enough information to start your investigation?" I ask.

"More than enough," he admits. "Your Highness…are you _certain_ you are not older than seventeen?"

"I am unaware that anyone has lied concerning the date of my birth, but I do not remember the day myself," I answer, realizing that my eyes are starting to droop. It has been a long night, and I really need to be in bed. I look out the window, and see that the sun is rising. "Before I go, there is something else I might offer you, should you be interested. I have not approached anyone in specific yet, but I should be able to offer you the protection of a good witch. Depending on her level of skill, it would be possible for her to shrink so you could carry her around in your belt pouch unnoticed, or else she could be disguised as a servant." And I find myself missing Delora. She is the first I would have gone to for this kind of task, but Parfait and Waltz should be able to find someone else. This is an important job.

"You believe that Alcaster will try to kill me, should I appear to be getting too close?" he asks.

"It is possible," I tell him. "You will be in danger if he suspects you have found something incriminating, or if he finds you presenting such evidence to the king. You will certainly be in danger if any of those men blab in spite of their oaths. You will also have my leeway to have her assist you in tasks regarding the investigation."

"I…am unused to witches…forgive me Princess…both of Your Highnesses actually," he amends, including my husband. "But I can see the practical application especially given the events of tonight and the warehouse matter. Things could have been very bloody indeed if you had not had your magic then, and the entire kingdom could suffer if anything goes wrong now. If you think such is necessary, I will gratefully accept the aid."

"Very well," I tell him. "I will try to find something for you by tomorrow…today…when we return with the truth serum. I doubt we will need it, but it would help hide that the interrogation is complete if we have it. Is there any other way you can think of that I can help you before I leave?"

"Just…just one question, Your Highness," Sir Willard admits. "Why are you so certain that you can trust _me_? I can see where you would trust Tuttle; I realized from the reports we filled out that he tried to die for you twice so that is why I got him to help tonight. But His Majesty said you requested me to head the investigation, specifically, and we have only seen each other that one day and perhaps a couple times in passing. I suppose I may have made a favorable impression on you then, but to trust me with something of this magnitude is something else completely. The second-most powerful man in the kingdom committing treason has to be handled very delicately, especially if the king will not hear a word against Alcaster without conclusive proof. His Majesty told Alcaster that he allowed you your choice in the matter since the offence had been against your person, and that that was the reason he was not given control of the investigation rather than any wrongdoing on his part."

So…my father did not mention any disappointment with Alcaster for not preventing tonight. Does that mean that my father does not think the Alcaster may have done anything wrong, or that he does not want to make Alcaster suspicious because he _does_ think Alcaster did something wrong? And I have never been more grateful that my father allowed Jurien and Garlan to be dismissed so easily; it gives everyone else excuse to make sure that they have a flawless case against Alcaster before they move on him…it gives me more time as it will take more time to make sure that the evidence _is_ immaculate. On another note, if Alcaster does not think that Father might be getting suspicious of him, he will be less likely to be scared into changing his mind about committing treason. He will be more likely to remain a threat.

Really, tonight could not have gone any better. Both my enemy and I survived relatively unscathed.

But this man standing before me…. _I saw you at the gates when I entered during the last cycle…you were spellbound to serve, instead of doing so by your own will…and you were trying to fight that spell._ "The same magic that told me that I could not trust Alcaster, told me that you were not his ally…which would make you loyal to my father, the rule of law, or better yet, both," is what I tell him, and the knight bows deeply to me as I leave the room.

…..

When we return to the Marchen, Waltz sends me to bed immediately while he finds Parfait to tell her what happened, and then goes see a few witches that may agree to protect and aid Sir Willard on my behalf. I feel as if my heavy eyelids have just closed when he is waking me again, but I follow him to the private dining room.

When we get there, a short blond witch with large violet eyes and a button nose that I know by face, if not by name, greets me with a curtsey. While not old, she appears to retain more than visages of her youth, and just from looking at her I guess most people would presume her too 'cute' to really be dangerous. If I remember correctly, she was among those that Parfait snuck into the palace during the last cycle.

"This is Lady Maeve," Waltz introduces me.

"It's a pleasure," I tell her. "Has my husband explained what is needed?"

"I believe that I have the basics, Bearer," Maeve tells me. "An attempt was made on your husband's and your child's lives. You know through your own magical means that Alcaster is guilty of arranging the attempted assassination, but your father will not render him justice without physical proof of his guilt. You were able to get another knight to head the investigation, on the basis that Alcaster is unfit due to his failure to prevent it. You wish someone to remain with Sir Willard while he attempts to find the proof you need. I am to protect him, and help in investigation tasks if possible."

"That is correct," I tell her. "How good are you at concealing yourself? Sir Willard will know what and who you are, but I prefer if my hand in his tasks remains…discrete. What skills do you have?"

Maeve nods. "I can shrink enough to fit in a belt pouch, so he can take me anywhere he goes. I have worked with potions long enough to be adept at locating and identifying poisons. In my youth when your grandmother was Bearer, I was part of an experimental program in which witches helped the authorities investigate crimes, before your royal grandfather put an end to the program right when the fairytale books started becoming popular."

"And you are willing to serve in this fashion?" I ask her. Really, Waltz could not have located anyone more suited to this particular task.

She nods. "I have no pressing familial or business duties, and even if I did, I would make other arrangements to participate in this. An attack of this nature is an obvious attempt to corrupt you, and this should be stopped at all costs. And…I have worked with Willard before. He is a good man, and a more than merely competent one. At the very least, he is a good enough of a conversationalist that I will not mind riding around in his belt pouch for weeks or months."

"Then I would be most grateful for your help," I tell her with all sincerity. "Will you be able to go with me as soon as I have eaten something?"

She smiles at me. "Lady Parfait said that she would be done with the potion you believe you will not need shortly, and we shall see how accurately you are able to predict your enemy's behavior. I am at your disposal whenever you decide to go."

I have Waltz retrieve my already completed copy of Fritz's list while I scarf down a quick brunch, Maeve shrinks down to fit in my husband's belt pouch, and we return to the palace. We go to my father's study first, and find Sir Willard there waiting for my father who is still in court.

"You were right, Princess," he tells me when we walk in, and I put a sound barrier around the room. "The change of guard at noon tried to wake the prisoner…and found what we believe is a poisoned dart sticking out of his neck. It is a good thing we finished when we did."

I nod, knowing that the preventative measures I had suggested disallowed poisoning through other means. It is now perfectly obvious that someone in the guard itself has a hand in the assassination attempt, as opposed to any servant or cook that could have come into contact with the food the prisoner would have been served. It will give Sir Willard the perfect excuse to focus his efforts on investigating members of the guard. "Well, here is the list I promised you," I say taking out the paper which Sir Willard slips into his nearly empty belt pouch, "and this is Lady Maeve."

Waltz opens his pouch, and allows Maeve to crawl out of it onto his hand. "It is good to see you again, Willard," the tiny, blond witch says as Waltz passes her so she can crawl into the knight's pouch.

Sir Willard does a double take, recognizing her. "Maeve? It _is_ you! I never guessed that you were a witch!"

"Not even after the third time I volunteered to act as 'bait' for a dangerous investigation?" she asks, shaking her head as she pulls the flap of the pouch over her head. "Hide me now in case someone comes in, and we can talk later."

No sooner has the knight fastened the flap of his belt pouch than my father walks in and sees the three of us waiting for him. "Sir Willard has interesting news," I tell my father as he looks at us. "Apparently, one of the guards _was_ in the mastermind's pocket…which I also count as proof that the assassin was not working alone."

I hope that my father will take the slight guilt visible on Sir Willard's face as his reaction to not preventing the death of the assassin, as opposed to guilt from what the knight is hiding from his king until he can prove what I already know. As Sir Willard explains what happened, my father's face darkens but he does not look suspicious. "I have been able to discern," Sir Willard finally ends, "that the prisoner was alive at the change of guard at sunrise. The physician is looking at the poisoned dart to determine if it was a long acting or short acting poison."

"I could take a look at it as well," Waltz volunteers. "There's a spell that will tell me as much if the physician is unsure of his findings. And…I will also be able to tell about how many hours he has been dead."

"If it was short acting, and the prisoner was noted alive by the guards at dawn, that would indicate it was one of the guards that took over after sunrise as the guilty party," I muse, as if thinking aloud. "If it was long acting, it could have been anyone…though the prisoner would have probably pulled it out of his skin if he had felt it there. And I take it the guards performed a thorough search before locking the assassin up, and would have found any weapon he could have used to either escape or commit suicide, so I doubt the prisoner took his own life."

Sir Willard notes, "He was searched, and the dart was found still in his neck, Your Highness. His expression was peaceful, so it was assumed that he was asleep when he was shot with the dart." The knight goes over his plans to start investigating the guards that were on duty between sunrise and noon should the poison be short acting, and questioning any associates or trainers of the assassin for any information on him.

And in spite of everything, I cannot help but feel a little relieved that the man had found some measure of peace before he died.

…

The following three weeks seem relatively quiet compared to the events of that night, but that does not mean that nothing is happening. The first evening back, I go over the entire situation with Parfait, and answer her questions about what is being done, and why.

"Is there anything I can do?" the fairy asks me.

I sit back and think for a moment. "No…I do not think so. Sir Willard is hunting down leads, Maeve is protecting him while he does so. I think all relevant duties are covered at this time."

Parfait looks almost disappointed…and sad. "I…had hoped that I might be of some use."

I sigh. "Sometimes, you just have to take a break and let other people help you. It's something I have been learning this cycle. If you do not delegate duties, you will wear yourself out…and sometimes, other people are even more suitable for certain tasks than you yourself are."

Parfait is still staring at the table, and I blink. "Surely you do not _want_ to run yourself ragged. You do not have a great deal of health or vigor as it is."

"I…just do not like feeling myself useless," she says slowly. "For the last four years, since the war ended…it has been my job to slow the corrupted witches down. And out of the blue, you show up, everything I ever wished you could be, and within a week cursing became as slow as it has ever been."

"I did not do that without you, you realize," I tell her. "Your efforts helped me immeasurably…and it was not just sending Delora to curse me. You simply do not remember the things you have done to help me. If it makes you feel better, we can chat about what happened in previous cycles, sometimes."

"I would not want to waste your time," Parfait says quietly. "You have very little left in your busy schedule. And in your condition, you should be taking it easy yourself."

"You are always worth my time, Parfait," I tell her, and she manages a small smile…but there is a tremor to it. "Is something wrong?" I ask her, and I see her trying to shake her head, and I sigh. "Never mind 'is something wrong.' _What_ is wrong, Parfait?"

"I…." The fairy sighs. "I am not making the progress that I ought to in trying to repair the Lucis. You are making so much progress with your Crystallum, while still tending to nearly everything that I normally do…people are starting to ask for _you_ instead of _me_ when there is a serious problem. And I still have trouble with the one duty I cannot fail in this cycle."

She speaks truth that people are coming to the Marchen wanting to see me, at least when it concerns corrupted witch problems. I have cursed several that needed it, and cleared up some misunderstandings that could have led to some significant problems down the road. Parfait has more time on her hands now than she has had for quite a while. She still makes her potions to sell or for our own use, but she has more time to dedicate to the task she has trouble with; the task she has neglected since the end of the war. "I can see where it might be easier to inflict pain upon oneself than joy," I muse. "But you only really need to be able to start the process…but not complete it. The Lucis only needs to be perfect in the next cycle, when you must pass through it, and it will be reset at the start of the next cycle anyway."

"Even doing that much…I…." She hangs her head. "I failed your mother when she needed me the most, and I am afraid that I will only fail you too."

"That fear feeds my Crystallum, and not yours," I say quietly. "What can I do to help you?"

"It is my burden, for as long as I live," my fairy friend tells me. "I…do not know how you could help me."

"What can I do to make you happier, Parfait?" I ask her. "Or to help ease your guilt and grief for what happened during the Witch Hunts…during the Great War. You know that that is what is getting in the way."

"You have already told me that you hold no debt against me, when you have every right to," the fairy says quietly. "And…I could tell that you meant it. You have a capacity for forgiveness that your mother never did."

"You are letting the thought that even if Mother was without corruption, that she would never forgive you for your lack of action, hold you hostage," I say, and the fairy grimaces. "She holds me hostage, too," I reluctantly admit. "I have always wanted things that most daughters take for granted from their mothers from her…and she never granted them, and I know that she never will."

"It was never your fault that she was incapable of loving you like a mother should when you were born to her," Parfait tells me earnestly.

"Just because I know that in my head," I say, "that doesn't mean that I still do not miss what I never had." I sigh. "Just one more cycle, and the both of us will be free of her permanently. There will be no more second chances, after that. And…that does not mean that I have never had other maternal figures along the way. I have enjoyed getting to know Ophelia better this cycle, but Delora is much closer to what I wish my mother could have been."

"Delora is closer to who your mother once was." Parfait admits, and then she frowns at her teacup that still sits on the table, untouched. "And what am I?"

"A very dear friend," I tell her. "I…would not have gotten as far as I have without you, Parfait." And I finally see the fairy give me a smile that is free of anxiety. "Are you going to be able bear things well?" I ask her. "It is not as if fairies are immune to corruption, and as…stressed…as you have been, I do worry for you."

"It…has not presented itself to me as of yet," my friend admits to me. "I would die before accepting it. I…remember what happened to your mother when she did that very well. It took everything that was ever good in her and twisted it, making her a mockery of who and what she once was."

"I would really prefer that you neither die nor accept corruption," I say. "If I need to, I will go downstairs right now and tell Rumpel that he needs to cheer you up and that I do not care how he does it."

Parfait manages to give me a look of mock horror. "But…I would never hear the end of his terrible puns! No woman in her right mind would allow herself to be attached to that man!"

And I cannot stop a smirk from finding my face, and my eyes drift toward the ceiling. "Yes…she would have to be very depressed to think that Rumpel might be appealing."

Parfait just looks at me, her eyes growing wider. "By the gods… _he_ wasn't among your lovers?!"

And I start laughing, glad that we have a sound barrier up, before I can look at her again. "I was _very_ depressed at the time."

"Has Waltz guessed that one?" Parfait asks me, starting to giggle.

I shake my head. "Not that he has mentioned to me, no. He knows about Fritz, I'm fairly certain he guessed about Karma. But...he has never said anything about Rumpel, or guessed that I actually got my first kiss from Rod."

And at that point, Parfait's jaw drops, and works soundlessly for a minute before we both start laughing again. "Well…I suppose that he's not your brother by blood," the fairy finally admits once our laughter has died down.

Parfait is not the only fairy that I need help from, and I am relieved when I see a vision of a smiling, fiery-orange haired fairy with blue eyes that makes the same promise the two witch Bearers did as she looks ready to spring into dance in a forest glen. It could only be Alicula, and there is only one more Bearer I have yet to hear from…and Fritz and the others should have reached Veles weeks ago. And there is nothing I can do about it now except hope and pray.

Waltz can feel the baby kick now, and I swear the child is growing bigger every day. The first time it happened, my husband and I were simply snuggling in bed one night, and apparently the baby decided that he had a problem with someone intruding on _his_ space and had started kicking. Waltz had laughed, and put a hand to my belly to better feel our son's movements, and looked at me with a smile that only showed pure delight. I had smiled back at him, savoring the precious moment, sharing the simple joy of our bond with each other, and our son.

But not all things are as pleasant. The trials of the criminals identified during what the public now knows as the 'warehouse rescue' take place. The criminals from among the guards are tried by a military tribunal which Sir Willard ensures has no members from Fritz's list, and the rest are tried in civilian courts. I go to most of the trials as a witness, and once I am done, I feel as if I have recounted the story at least fifty times. The civilian trials are open to the public, and are attended so well there are no chairs unoccupied and there is hardly any standing room left in the public areas. Everyone wants to hear exactly what happened, and I count it a good thing that they are hearing about how a witch saved the girls that were being sold into slavery. It helps the humans get a view of witches that they are not accustom to seeing.

Emelaigne goes as well, but is not questioned as much as she stayed in the cellar like I told her to when I went up the stairs to sort out the matter. I think she finds the proceedings a little intimidating, but she bears up relatively well.

I feel sorry for her, as the courtroom is a place in which it is impossible to please everyone. When I ask her about how she is holding up, she says, "I know what I have to do. I must tell the truth, everything that I remember, so the people that have been wronged can at least have justice. I can't undo the past, but maybe I can help keep those men from hurting anyone else." She does smile when I tell her how proud I am of her.

All of the guards involved are stripped of rank and sent to military prison, with the exception of the captain who tried to kill me. He is sentenced to hang. The civilians are also sent to prisons, with the exception of a few that are wanted as pirates and slavers in several nations. The sentence for such is also hanging. Father does not like such men preying on the people of Angielle, and considers slavers particularly despicable.

Due to the circumstances, I am given the seat of honor on the dais as the Crown's representative with the judges that sentenced the criminals that are hung. In theory, I could grant a last minute pardon, but I have no intention of doing so. These men earned their sentence, and I will not deny their victims justice. I tell Emelaigne that it is not necessary that she come with me, but she does anyway and sits to the side of my chair. I am surprised that she does not rush behind the dais to vomit until after the last man is hung. She does manage to finish, compose herself, and return to her chair before the crowd is done cheering. My sister glances at me before she sits down again. "You are doing fine," I reassure her. "And you know that this is necessary. Now, they will be unable to kidnap and enslave other girls again." Unless time resets…which it will, so someone will have to catch them again. Still, my sister gives me a shaky smile as she sits back down in her chair, her expression turning to as stony as mine is once again.

And I realize something. My sister is no longer the innocent girl she once was. At the start of the cycle, she would have stayed as far from any execution as she could, or even asked if they were necessary at all. She would have seen only the lives of the criminals lost once, but now she has seen crime up close and looked into the eyes of the victims…girls not so unlike herself. Now, she judges these executions necessary, if still a bit hard to handle. Death is not something that is easy to witness, no matter the circumstances.

In a way I find this tragic that it this loss of innocence is necessary, that innocence needs to be lost at all. But the world is a dangerous place, and the innocent and the helpless are devoured first. And I would not have her devoured if there is anything I can do to stop it. She might still be physically unable to protect herself, but she should at least be able to recognize danger now.

Waltz was able to determine that the poison was short acting, and that the assassin had been dead for less than three hours before he was found dead at noon. This clears the guards on duty between midnight and sunrise, which means that the guards that witnessed the interrogation will not be under scrutiny. This lessens the chance of someone noticing that half of the guards are missing a bit more than an hour of time, and the others do not have to pretend that they do not know about the interrogation that produced results. This news comes to me as a relief.

Sir Willard's investigation continues. He admits to me that more than half of the guards on duty when the assassin died were either on the list, or their direct superior was. His own team of investigators are looking into the various leads we got from our interrogation, and he sends Alcaster's man that he dubs 'the mole' on the least promising leads with another guard that is trusted to watch him.

Sir Willard identifies several men on Fritz's list he considers 'dangerous,' and Maeve finds several things that indicate that they might be involved with criminal dealings as well. So, I grab Clerk Tuttle and perform more 'inspections' that expose them. At one site, I find indications that there had once been prisoners held there, but we are unable to discern if those prisoners had been sold or simply moved somewhere that might not be the subject of 'random' inspections. However, there is a fair amount of stolen property found, and more corrupt guardsmen are arrested as parties to theft.

And the city cannot stop talking about it. Due to his new station, Tuttle keeps a better feel of the city's mood than I am able to, and I find talking with him quite informative. The residents are quite worried that there might be rampant corruption in the guard, though it might be quite worse if it was not also the guard that cracks down on their own when they find evidence of corruption. The general opinion is that maybe corruption was always there, but those faithful to king and crown had just gotten better at uncovering it. There are a few naysayers that are convinced that there is no corruption, but a plot by someone that wants to raise higher than their station and does it over the bodies of his peers. If it was not for the 'warehouse rescue,' more people might believe them. While stolen property could be 'relocated' to frame someone, is difficult to frame anyone for trying to sell a dozen girls to known pirates and slavers. Unlike inanimate objects, girls talk, as do their families.

The fact that I am involved with the 'unmasking' of the criminals is also a subject of intense discussion. Perhaps witches are good at 'sniffing out' the corrupt…perhaps it would be good to have witches staffed within the city guard permanently. Everyone knows that the time of the crown princess is valuable, and once I am queen I will have no time for gallivanting around to find criminals. Some others agree with having witches on the city guard…but for the reason that no one cares if criminals are the ones getting cursed, so if witches are kept busy chasing them it would benefit everyone.

The criminal leaning elements of the city are dead set against having the witches reinforce the guards, naturally.

Tuttle simply shrugs when I ask him if I am technically allowed his information. "You need to be kept abreast of matters too, Your Highness. Should anything unfortunate happen to your father, you would need to know how things stand to better be able to deal with them." He looks around for a moment, as if making sure there are no shadows that should not be there coming under the closed door, though this is unnecessary because I have a sound barrier up. "Speaking of which, your father seems not to give this the concern I believe it due, but there is a growing division in the knights."

"Nearly half of them are wearing red sleeves," I tell him. "It is hardly subtle."

Alcaster's known allies getting arrested for crimes has an effect on the guards and knights. In public, Sir Willard says that he has no indication that Sir Alcaster is involved with anything there is an impending trial for, and he has no evidence that Sir Alcaster was or is currently involved with criminal activity involving theft or slavery. This does not stop the knights and guards from dividing among themselves concerning whether they think Alcaster himself is involved or not.

Alcaster himself added a red sleeve to his uniform, stating that it 'signified his innocence' in any wrongdoing. Those already his followed suit, calling themselves the 'Redarms.' Sir Willard protests this, saying that it is unnecessary to protest things that have not happened, and the uniforms should not be changed to reflect their opinions concerning any one man. For him, loyalty to the king is paramount, and nothing should distract from that. It is his belief that the knights should not divide among themselves, if only because they would be less effective in defending king and crown should either come under threat. Of course, Alcaster ignored this logic.

Due to this, in only weeks, the knights are no longer a unified force but are divided into two groups with Alcaster the leader of the 'Redarms' and Sir Willard the de facto leader of everyone else. It is becoming so bad, the two groups are changing bedding assignments so they will not have to sleep in the same dormitory, nor will they practice on the practice field at the same time. I am sure that Alcaster looks at this and determines which men will stand for and against him when he tries to seize the throne. Sir Willard looks at this like it is a tinderbox about to explode. My father seems uneasy, as he trusts both men that are 'in charge' of the divided sides and he wants to find a way to reunify them.

Personally…I look at the Redarms and wonder how long it will be before they commit treason as their master attempts to take the throne for himself, and Sir Willard and those loyal to the crown will have to kill them all. I look at those in normal uniforms, and see men and women that will oppose Alcaster when the time comes, as proof that my enemy knows that he will not win them all, and that they are unified behind Sir Willard means that a quiet coup will be impossible. There are too many without red, and no witches to help him. I look at the Redarms and see battle waiting to happen.

When Alcaster does make his move, I doubt it will be subtle one.

"I have noticed that the only knights or guards we catch in wrongdoing are all allies of Alcaster's," Tuttle notes to me. "Meaning…either he has a direct hand in criminal matters, or whoever is feeding you information wants to make it look that way."

"We have caught no one that was innocent. Or are you wondering if I have a hand in creating the division between the knights?" I ask him.

Tuttle looks troubled. "If you do have a hand in the division…I can only think of a few logical reasons for this, Princess. If men choose sides now, they will not be forced to choose sides later…meaning there will be a minimum of two sides to be chosen. If you meant to seize power from your father, you would do so in a subtle fashion and a division between the knights would not benefit you. I am sure that there are spells that could make him ill, making it necessary to crown you. Therefore, you would be causing or encouraging the division because you believe someone _else_ is going to set themselves up against your father. If the knights have already decided sides and there is enough gulf between them that no one switches sides easily, this would make it very difficult for your enemy to attempt a silent coup. You are forcing your enemy to expose himself, since simply taking over the palace would become impossible with sufficient opposition. You are choosing to force your enemy into subversion, into attempting to start a civil war. I can only assume this enemy is Alcaster himself."

I nod. If Alcaster attempts this, I would have more time. He would have to gather his men, and leave the city to be chased down. Fighting within the city would not help his cause, as he must win the support of the populace to have a hope of success in the long term. "Do you believe that better or worse than allowing them to attempt a coup?" I ask him.

"You would give Alcaster a lesser chance of success with a subversion than with a coup. A coup requires less resources and he needs only kill or capture the royal family, which is an easier objective to meet than turning a nation against the royal family especially since your father is popular," Tuttle admits. "But…potentially it could be bloodier than a simple coup. Battles of whatever armies he can raise versus the forces loyal to the Crown fighting, as opposed to fewer numbers of guards and knights fighting within the palace itself…." He shakes his head. "It is not an easy choice, Your Highness, but I am not able to denounce yours. If worst comes to worst, I think you would win against Alcaster if only because you would have better means of supplying and reinforcing your troops. If your father were more suspicious, we could avoid the situation entirely. Unfortunately, he appears to trust his own enemy."

"What did Father say when you told him of this? Did you suggest that I might be…exacerbating…the division between the knights on purpose?" I ask him.

Tuttle gives me a wry smile. "He does not think you capable of being this sneaky, Princess. He thinks it happenstance. He also refused my suggestion to send the rest of the royal family elsewhere for the next month or so. He must remain, and you and your husband are capable of defending yourselves with magic…but your stepmother and siblings have neither obligation to stay nor means of defense of their own persons."

"Underestimated by my own father," I sigh. "And I wish he would be more cautious with the lives of the rest of our family. It's a pity I cannot stash them somewhere safe on my own merits."

"Your Highness," Tuttle tells me, "your father is taking no action regarding the coming danger, but right or wrong you are at least doing _something._ Even if the both of you survive this coming storm, even if you never try to 'hurry' your access to the throne, it is entirely possible that your father will wake one day and realize that you are making decisions as if you were already queen. Personally, I do not think you wrong in doing so under the circumstances."

"Is _that_ what I am doing?" I muse, but I know that he speaks the truth. In spite of the fact that my father is the reigning monarch, it is _my_ hand on the tiller as Angielle heads into the storm about to befall it. And this is because _someone's_ hand has to be there.

Father has not yet accepted that there is a storm ahead of us…and it would be dangerous to me if he realized that there was one. If only Veles would give me an affirmative answer. Then, I could try to lift the blinders from my father's eyes, so he could see the truth. I could wrap this all up so quickly if the next cycle could be triggered safely.

I also have to wonder if my actions this time concerning my family are better or worse than the ones I took during the last cycle. Last time, I was unable to stop them from becoming endangered, and then I terrified them all and endangered myself to save them. Now I am allowing, perhaps even encouraging, danger to them simply because some blasted fairy is being stubborn.

And I hate it.

…

 _Author's note:_

 _Aki asked "if my mother resets, I'll kill her" was a binding statement. Technically, yes, even if it was done in anger instead of being an intentional promise. However, it is pretty certain at this point that she will fulfill this if things happen as she intends. Angielle is not big enough for both Hildyr and Lucette, and what Lucette is trying to do (bring Hildyr before the gods and fulfill that contract) would quite likely bring about Hildyr's death. So, Lucette would be an indirect cause of her mother's death, still fulfilling that statement. She did not specify_ how _she would kill Hildyr, so it is not absolutely necessary for Lucette to directly cause that death. For example, stabbing Hildyr would be a direct cause of death, and fulfill the terms. Hiring an assassin capable of killing Hildyr to do the deed (yes, I know, if there_ had _been an assassin capable of it, it probably would have been done) would be an indirect method of killing Hildyr and still fulfill the terms. Dragging Hildyr before gods that Lucette has every reason to believe are angry at Hildyr could also be an indirect cause of the death of her mother…not to mention eternal damnation for the corrupted witch._

 _As to what happens to a witch or fairy that breaks/attempts to break their word, I am not sure that this is addressed in cannon. So I'll just make something up for the purposes of our story. If the witch/fairy states that they will refrain from doing something and they try to do it anyway, they will be magically bound from performing that action. For example, "I swear to never touch object 'x'" will result in them being physically unable to touch object 'x.'_

 _Stating that they will do something might be a little trickier. In cannon, there is no way to take away the magical power of a witch/fairy without destroying the Crystallum responsible for their power, so therefore attempting to destroy the power of a witch/fairy enemy by making them unable to keep a promise would not work. If it caused the death of the fairy/witch, Myth might have decided it worth his life to force Lucette to free Hildyr and made plans to try that, but that is not what happens/happened. The only thing left is that they find themselves taking action to fulfill their word unwillingly if they do not do so willingly. But this is not very dignified (any more so than being drug around the room by a broom) so they intend to avoid making promises they do not fully intend to keep._

 _As to if it becomes both physically and magically impossible to fulfil the promise, the same thing happens as in a marriage contract when one of them dies…the contract is null and void. Now, this has to be accidental rather than purposeful to work like this. For example, a witch/fairy could not promise to perform an action in Angielle and then move to Cedel to get out of it; she would find herself unable to create conditions in which fulfilling her word would become impossible. It_ must _be accidental to work this way. For example, if you make a promise to perform an action for someone, and the other person dies, you are no longer responsible for performing that action because the recipient of your word is dead making it impossible to fulfill your word. There are no penalties._

 _I do not believe that corruption would influence the witch/fairy's being bound to their promises. In cannon, Hildyr and Genaro were married, but she was still able to kill him. We really do not know what vows Hildyr took, so either the corrupted can break their word (which would not make any sense, because Myth is still bound by his), or else she simply took Genaro as her husband without any promises of love, honor, cherishing, etc._

 _She probably made sure that the priest 'skipped that part.'_

 _My bad…that's a reference from 'The Princess Bride' …I could not resist…. :D_

 _Anyway, I hope this answers questions!_


	48. Suspicion and Running

**Chapter 48. Suspicion and Running**

"I did not really see the point of it," Waltz says with a smile.

We are taking tea with the rest of my family, and Emelaigne is recounting her brother's fencing lesson that she watched, and Rod had failed miserably again. Rod seems frustrated with his lack of progress in that area, and Emelaigne compares it to her own lack of skill in dancing. Waltz, who had also been there, had been offered a lesson but he had politely declined.

"It's easier just to freeze attackers in ice," my husband notes. "Or push them away, or surround yourself with a wall of flames so they leave you alone, or…."

"That's easy for _you_ to say," Rod grumbles, and Ophelia laughs.

"I think we can all agree that Waltz has other things to learn before dueling with a sword becomes a worthy goal," Ophelia notes.

"I still do not see why you find it so hard, Rod," I say with a grin. "After all, you dance well enough. You just have to change your mindset from trying to gracefully move around your 'partner' to ensuring they end up defeated before you do. Fighting is simply dance with aggression added."

"That's easy for you to say," Rod sighs. "Apparently, you can do both quite well."

My father startles, and blinks. "Lucette?" he asks. "Since when could you use a sword?"

I blink, quite grateful that I have just popped at small pastry into my mouth as chewing gives me time to think. I cannot tell him the truth. What I say has to fit with Rod knows, and as far as I can remember, the only thing Rod knows is that I had been practicing with Karma, and that I did not tell Garlan who had taught me. I could imply that Fritz had taught me, which would yield the least suspicion, or else I could tell another partial truth which might make my father trust Alcaster less. I decide to simply mix up my timelines again. It might not hurt to put Father on his guard a little. Maybe he would decide to send Ophelia and my siblings somewhere safe, just in case something _is_ going on like Tuttle and Decimond have been telling him. To me, the evidence that danger is near is about a subtle as a blood on a wedding dress.

"Well, I have not practiced for some time, for obvious reasons," I note, as if a bit upset with this. Then I blink, as if surprised by something. "What do you mean, 'since when?' You mean that you _did not_ find out? But then why…?" I trail off as if confused.

"I had no idea you were taking lessons!" my father tells me.

"Then why was she dismissed about a year and half ago?" I ask. "The knight I had convinced to teach me, I mean." It comes to mind that Jurien and Garlan had been dismissed about a year and a half ago, not too long before my father had renewed his contact with Ophelia. I can see the wheels spinning in my father's head, and he can only think of one female knight that had been dismissed at that time, and he startles but I continue before he can say anything else. "Of course I assumed that you had found out that she had been giving me lessons, that we had become friendly with each other, and then you dismissed her.

"Now, I could have understood had you told me that you were upset with me for doing something behind your back and had punished her as well for allowing me to," I continue. "But you did not tell me that. So, I had assumed that you had dismissed her for the same reason Mother dismissed the only maid I ever became friendly with; I had assumed that you thought that I should not make friends with anyone too far below my own station."

"Which was why you were so furious when I married Ophelia?" my father asks softly.

I actually _had_ been angrier than usual when that happened. My father, who had never had time for me, had found time to court and marry a baker of all women! If he had wanted a second wife, at the time I would have preferred that he had married a noblewoman that might have paid attention to me rather than a commoner widow with two children that I assumed would have already had a monopoly on all the affection she had to offer. I had not considered that Ophelia might have wanted to love me as well.

"Of course I was angry that you had different standards for your behavior than my own," I tell him.

"But in spite of what you thought," my father asks, somewhat confused, "you did not think that I would mind you marrying Waltz?"

"Heroes of the realm _always_ have privileged status," I answer. "Waltz was the man that I decided that I wanted…but I figured that after what he did to stop the Great War, you would let me have him for that reason. But…you say that you never knew that I had been taking lessons with a sword?"

"I…think that we have discovered another one of our 'miscommunications,' Lucette," my father says slowly, and then he sighs. "Was it Jurien Valiente that was teaching you?" he asks, and I nod. "Why was she teaching you? Did she want something of you?"

"She was teaching me because I asked her," I answer. "The only thing she asked of me concerned my own safety. I was only to pick up and use a sword as a last resort, in defense of my own life. She wanted me to let the knights do any necessary fighting, should there be danger."

"Was she always honest with you?" my father asks next, as serious as death.

"Yes," I answer. "Well, I never caught her in a lie, anyway…so she was a great deal more honest with me than you were. You have tells that I can easily read when you lie to me, by the way…not that you have done so lately.

"Now, sometimes she simply wouldn't tell me something. Like the last time I saw her, she was clearly troubled about something, but would not tell me what it was," I say, but I know that she was and still is troubled about Garlan's absence, and about what had and what had not happened between them. "But there was something that had to be done, and apparently it could go badly. I do not think she would have considered herself any kind of an honorable knight if she left whatever duty it was unfinished."

My father pales. "Oh no," he whispers.

"What?" I ask.

"Her dismissal did not have anything to do with you," my father answers. "But now I…I have to wonder if there was a serious miscarriage of justice."

"Well, what _did_ happen then?" I ask.

"She and another knight brought a serious concern to me about one of their superiors…Sir Alcaster in fact," my father slowly answers. "I was not sure if I should believe them, and I allowed Alcaster and Mythros to convince me not to. Both knights were stripped of rank and dismissed for what I believed to be their lies."

I blink. "So…my mother's most loyal servant and the man accused persuaded you that there was no truth _at all_ to her words? Did you even bother to investigate her claims?" I ask dryly, already knowing the answer.

"No, I didn't," he admits, shaken, "and now I realize that I should have. By now, any evidence would have faded, so I will never know for certain."

After tea is done, Rod walks with Waltz and I toward the secret entrance we intend to use to go down to the laboratory so I can get some work done tonight. "You did not mention that you had found out later why they had been dismissed," my brother notes when he is certain that the three of us are alone. Of course, he cannot sense that I have a sound barrier that moves with us up anyway. "It was some time after our parents married, I presume?"

"It was," I admit, knowing that I have to distract him from the timeline before I mess things up. Rod knows that I knew what had happened before I set foot in the Marchen, because I had explained the situation to Fritz. "I did not tell Father that because he needs to realize on his own that he cannot trust Alcaster. He trusts him so much I doubt anyone could convince him that he _should_ distrust him without solid evidence of some kind. And I hope he realizes what is going on before it is too late. I believe something is getting close."

"Something?" Rod asks.

"The soldiers are divided against each other," I start, "there has been an attempt to corrupt me and the agent was silenced by murder, criminal activity has increased in the last several months as if someone wants to raise coin quickly…. My only question is if it will be sedition or a coup," I tell my brother. "And a coup has no need of coin."

"And you are certain Sir Alcaster might be involved?" he asks.

"Suspicions are not the same thing as proof," I answer. "Father would demand proof. Just…do not trust Alcaster. Tell your mother and Emelaigne that they should not go anywhere alone with him, or his Redarms. If you have to go anywhere with guards, insist that they not be Redarms. I do not care what excuse you make for it."

"I…will make sure they know. But I would be helpless if they did try anything," Rod admits, bitterly. "It's not like I could hold Sir Alcaster…or anyone else…off with a sword."

"Considering he is arguably the best blade in Angielle…no," I tell him. "And even if you throw yourself into your dueling lessons, you cannot hope to get that good within a month."

"How good did you get?" he asks me, curiously.

"I could beat Jurien about half of the time before our lessons stopped," I admit. "When we were all at the Marchen, I beat Karma once, but that was because I was able to distract him. Karma is a little better than Fritz, but sometimes all it takes is a distraction and a split second to end up dead upon your enemy's sword, even if your opponent has a lesser skill than you."

Still, Rod looks impressed. "And I can't even land a single hit!"

"Try thinking of it like dancing through your opponent," I suggest. "Remember, you are trying to best them, and your life is the prize you are fighting for if you ever have to pick up a sword to actually use it. In your situation…it would be a better idea to get behind someone who _does_ know how to use a sword rather than to attempt to use one yourself."

Rod blinks at me. "You're afraid that I'll probably chop off my own foot if I try to actually use a real one."

"That is a real possibility."

…

"I believe that I owe you my gratitude once more, Your Highness."

I turn, and see Sir Decimond coming up to walk beside me once again. Another week has passed without the tinderbox being lit. I am sure that it will happen soon. Maeve has stopped two attempts to poison Sir Willard; Alcaster clearly wants him out of the way. Of course, we have hidden that the attempts were even made, so Alcaster thinks the failings were accidental. Otherwise, Maeve's presence might be revealed. "It is the witch that came upon them by chance that you should be thanking."

Sir Decimond nods. "I would express my gratitude to her as well…if I could find her. I…do not know what I would have done had those street roughs succeeded in carrying off Viorica."

"You would have come to me for help finding her, likely," I answer, and my father's political advisor nods.

When Viorica had been coming home from the toyshop yesterday, two street toughs had caught her, and attempted to carry her away. Witch Muddy Shoes…I really will have to learn her name someday…had happened upon them and had cursed the street toughs. Knowing that Viorica had some connection with my siblings, Muddy Shoes had taken Viorica to the nearby Marchen and the two of them told me the entire story at that time. I had agreed that Viorica had probably been targeted in specific in order to affect either her fiancée or my siblings. Jurien had delivered a note from Viorica to her mother to let her know that she was safe, and Viorica stayed in the Marchen that night and remains there still. I delivered a similar note to Sir Decimond myself this morning.

"You certainly would have been the one I would have turned to," he admits. "At least she suffered no injuries."

Chevalier had taken a look at her, and judged nothing broken or sprained. She had only gotten a few minor bruises and a bad fright from being manhandled. He had finally been able to completely break his curse, and Viorica had been his first patient since that time.

"And I can only assume that _someone_ wanted both you and I distracted," I mention. "Or perhaps someone wanted a way to influence you."

Sir Decimond's stride stiffens before he resumes his normal gait. "It is getting close, Your Highness. I can only hope your hound finds the needed evidence before the axe falls." He has long since guessed that I suspect Alcaster, and that Sir Willard is the hound I am using to catch him. After all, 'something' did happen in the form of someone trying to corrupt me by attempting to murder my son, giving me a trail to follow, and Sir Willard is who I picked to lead the investigation. Sir Decimond guessed that since I had not been satisfied with Alcaster as my father's suggestion to lead the investigation, it was because I was certain that Alcaster was involved with the crime.

I glance out the window as we pass one, and see that the practice field is full of knights that wear red sleeves to differentiate themselves as belonging to Alcaster…and there are none without. The division is only getting worse. Now, they will not even perform patrols together…which means that there is an increased risk of something happening when the Redarms have patrol duty within the palace. And I know that it is still too soon…I still have not heard from Veles. Fritz and the others should have found him long ago. If Veles does not agree to aid me in this cycle, I see no reason why he would in any other. My child would be doomed…unless I embraced corruption.

But I have to believe that Fritz will succeed. He _has_ to succeed. If only I could talk to Veles personally, I am sure that I could convince him. But I would not be able to find him myself, with as little time as there is left. Until I hear from the final Bearer…I have to ensure that Alcaster remains alive and a threat.

And that makes me sick. What do I do if Sir Willard finds the proof I need to convince Father, and Alcaster is jailed or killed before the next cycle can be triggered safely? Would I need to set him loose myself before his execution?

"And you seem as troubled by the possibilities as I," Sir Decimond notes.

I have to stop myself from sighing. Sir Decimond has learned my tells, if he knows that I am very worried about something. I do not see this as a bad thing, but I was not trying to be obvious. I am certainly glad that he cannot read my actual thoughts. "I could see this getting bloody," I admit.

Sir Decimond nods. "Viorica assured me in her note that she was safe under your protection…and that of a fairy, apparently."

"She is staying with a friend of mine at present," I tell him. "Would you prefer her to be safe in your own protection at your estate? I can arrange it."

Sir Decimond nods slowly. "It…would be a relief to have her close, but propriety…"

"Find yourself a Chaos priest," I tell him. "It is in no way indecent for your wife to remain in your home, with your own bodyguards. It is only a few weeks until your wedding, anyway. Maybe the Order priest you already have on reserve will marry you a little early."

"That…is a thought," he muses. "She always wanted a large wedding, though."

"There are reasons I wanted and got a quiet one. Large functions present excellent opportunities for poisoning people. It is impossible to watch everyone. They are also openings to take large numbers of hostages if security is lax or can be bribed, a chance to humiliate the groom if the bride can be kidnapped, as well as a good place to start revolutions if you want high profile witnesses," I note, and Sir Decimond actually laughs. _And I did not even get to the part where you can hold a counter-coup or an execution, if the bride does not mind wearing a bloody dress. I did not mind…I had a job to do._

"Princess," he admits, "if I did not have reason to trust you, you might be the one foe I might be hesitant to face, even without your magic. If we ever became enemies, you would probably just try to use me to your own ends before destroying me. It is likely that you would succeed."

"I will take that as a complement," I say. _And you are not wrong in that. I could try to extend the cycle some more, if Alcaster is wrapped up too quickly._ "But either fortunately or unfortunately, you appear satisfied what you have instead of perusing more, so we will never know what might have happened."

"It was a complement," Sir Decimond tells me, "and for some reason, I have the distinct impression that you already have purposes for me should I prove disloyal. Personally, I find the anticipation of your own reign stimulating; you will be a fascinating queen one day. Either fortunately or unfortunately, you did not get all of your traits from your father. As good of a king as he is, you are more analytical and tend to plan for contingency situations better. I am not suggesting your access to the throne should be sped up by any means, but your father would do well to begin delegating actual responsibilities to you soon. You are ready for them."

"Perhaps I will ask him if he has any plans for such when my situation allows," I tell the advisor. "There are other demands on my time, at present."

"Of course, Your Highness," he says. "If nothing else, I presume your magical education takes a significant amount of your time. It would not surprise me to find that you are trying to learn in months what takes most witches years."

"Now you sound like my husband," I admit. I am trying to learn everything as fast as I can, and it is only when I am exhausted that I stop unless my husband makes me stop first. To do this, he usually tells me that it's time for a lecture at which point we go over magical theory or history, or else he otherwise distracts me. And I find my husband attractive enough that it is relatively easy for him to distract me.

Sighing, I return to our original topic. "Tell Viorica that you want to protect her yourself, that you would rather marry her immediately in order to do so while still maintaining decorum rather than having her stay in hiding and not being able to see her until your scheduled wedding. I can arrange for you to travel to where she is staying, or bring her to the palace for the conversation. Something tells me that this is the last bit of quiet before the storm."

Sir Decimond nods. "I would be grateful if you would bring her here, Your Highness. I will be in my office late tonight, if you are available to do so then."

"That should prove no difficulty," I answer.

Sir Decimond eyes me for a moment. "I can only suppose that you and your husband were married by a Chaos priest."

"We were," I answer. "If anyone cares, they have not said anything about it to our faces."

"I doubt anyone would have the nerve, Your Highness," he notes. "Even if you _had_ married quickly for…reasons that might cause embarrassment…no one would comment unless your child arrives more than a month early. A witch princess is given more leeway, as everyone _wants_ you to remain happy enough that you will not start cursing people. My own reputation is fairly sound as of yet, but Viorica might not appreciate the effects of being brought into noble society through a hasty marriage. Rumors start over lesser things."

"If you are concerned about it," I suggest, "tell everyone the truth, as it is much more interesting than the most likely salacious rumor. Street toughs tried to kidnap her, a witch rescued her and brought her to me, and you decided to marry her immediately to place her under your direct protection rather than allow her to return to her own home where she might be at risk. If someone doubts the story, you can tell them that they can come to me for verification. If I repeat what happened once or twice in front of a few gossipy maids, the whole city would be aware of what happened before the wedding takes place in a day or two. I have not yet told Rod or Emelaigne about this, and I am perfectly happy to do so in front of the servants."

"Sometimes the unadulterated truth makes a fascinating story by itself," he admits. "And in this tale, the witch is the hero."

"Which makes it sensational in and of itself, and fashionable as the 'warehouse rescue' is _still_ being discussed in inns and taverns. You said something about wanting to express your gratitude to the witch that rescued Viorica," I tell him. "She would enjoy a tale in which she was the heroine instead of the villain. If you wanted to personally thank her, or send her a token of your esteem, I could arrange that as well."

"That would be more than appropriate," Sir Decimond decides, and then blinks as he realizes something. "You realize that you are advising me, rather than the other way around."

"I think that it is as much as an ally or friend would do. It is not always necessary to stick only to formal roles," I tell him, and he offers me a slight smile. "One final piece of advice; if she agrees, be sure to enjoy the time you are able to spend with her. Every warrior needs respite, which is why you love her in the first place, and there is nothing more precious than moments spent with the one you love."

…

Sir Decimond takes my advice, and marries Viorica after giving the truthful rumors a few days to spread…and spread it does according to Tuttle. I was correct in that the truth was interesting enough to swallow up any salacious rumor in this case. The wedding is small, but my family attends. After taking an afternoon to celebrate the marriage with only their closest family and friends, I use a portal to drop my family off at the palace before opening another one that takes my husband and I back to the Marchen. And I am exhausted with worry that I have still not heard from Veles. Does that fairy _want_ me corrupted!

This might not work at all, and I have no secondary plan. There are no other Bearers within distance, and there _needs_ to be six of us for this to work!

Waltz and I walk past Parfait's room on the way to our own, and I hear…sobs. I motion him to wait as I listen against the door, to be certain of what I hear, and my suspicions are confirmed. Someone is weeping in there.

"Wait here…I need to see what is wrong," I whisper, and he nods and leans against the wall to wait.

Without knocking, I open the door and quickly survey the room. Parfait is sitting on her rug in near darkness, her form and features lit by only the soft glow of the still fractured Lucis…and it looks like it has not changed in months while my own Crystallum is nearly healed! She kneels before it, tears running down her face, and I put up a sound barrier and quickly close the door behind me. No one but me must see her this way. She cannot afford to show weakness before anyone else. Everyone here depends on her.

Parfait turns to look up at me, her eyes reddened. "I'm so sorry, Lucette. I haven't made any headway at all."

"But I need you to," I tell her. "You at least need to be sure that you know _how_ to repair it, and soon." We both know that her work would be undone at the start of the new cycle, but she could redo it on our way to the Throne. The Lucis needs to be intact so she can pass through it. Only then will she be able to help me get into the gods' own city…only then can I save both my son and myself. With all of my concern over Veles…I had not considered that I would have to worry about _Parfait_ helping me!

And then it occurs to me that she has given me no promise of _her_ aid. I had taken her ascent to come with me for granted. Surely she could not be planning to….

Parfait shakes her head slowly at me, still crying. "You don't need me…you need the Lucis Bearer," she says, before she takes a deep breath and continues. "I can call my cousins that are likely to inherit the Lucis from me, and make them agree to go with you and perform as you need them to."

My eyes widen as I step toward her, realizing what she is saying. "You plan to die at the start of the next cycle…you plan to kill yourself! There is no going back if you die this next cycle! You are going to run _again_!"

"Yes," she admits, "I don't see another wa…" she stops, silent, as I slap her.

We both stare at each other for a moment, her as stunned that she has been slapped as I am for having done so. "I am sorry Fait, but that is not an acceptable option." At least she stops crying, instead staring at me with huge eyes as if she has seen a ghost. I sigh, and reach down to offer her the hand that has just slapped her, to pull her up off of the floor. She looks at it a moment before taking it, and I pull her up. "If you wish it," I tell her, "you can slap me back. I deserve it…but you should not even be _considering_ such a thing!"

The fairy slowly shakes her head. "You have no idea how much you looked and sounded _exactly_ like your mother, just then. It was as if…" she trails off for a moment. "It heavily reminded me of the last conversation we had, before she killed the king…before she fell."

"What happened?" I ask, quietly.

"She…had said that she was going to confront the king," Parfait explains, "regarding the Witch Hunt. About how he had done nothing to protect the witches who had done nothing wrong, and the children that had been murdered simply because they would be witches one day. I…I thought that she meant to curse the king, and under the circumstances this seemed reasonable to me. I told her that I could go with her, present a united magical front. She…told me that it was not 'an acceptable option' and slapped me, but then explained that this was something she had to do herself. She…she told me that after this long, no one would believe a 'united magical front' anyway. The fairies had done almost nothing to aid the witches before now, so if I came with her she said that everyone would suppose that I was there against my will. I…believed her explanation, and was embarrassed that what she had said of the fairies was true. So, I submitted to her desire that I remain out of her way while she 'took care of matters."'

I am quiet for a moment. Mother had known, planned, that she was going to kill the king for not interfering in the Witch Hunt, and had known that Parfait might have stopped her if she had been there. My mother had already decided that she was going to seize power herself, and stop the massacre that way.

Mother's strategy had been deliberate, premeditated…not an act of impassioned anger at being denied the justice the king owed, even if she had tried to present it that way. She does not have even the excuse of a righteous rage to explain her actions. She had accepted corruption willingly, purposefully. Everything in her that could have truly loved me had died before she had even wed my father.

And the pain of that realization filters into the sound barrier I have up, making it even stronger.

"And…and I should have followed her anyway, regardless of what she wanted. I could have stopped her," the fairy sadly says.

"There is no guarantee of that," I remind Parfait. "She might have done it anyway. It takes very little power to kill a human, and she could have done it still while fighting you."

"Possibly," the fairy admits, before giving a quiet, ironic laugh. "I might not have been able to stop her. That last time I saw her…she did not tell me that I could slap her back, though. There is still significant difference between the two of you. You…have no idea how worried I have been over you. You have been working very closely with the Tenebrarum under stressful circumstances, and I know that you will have to repeat your work in the next cycle, with even less time to accomplish it…and that is the _best_ case scenario. You are taking grave risks."

"I know," I tell her. "And I do not have another choice."

"I know that you don't," my friend tells me. "And…I can only hope that you are able to lean on the people around you, that love you, when the weight becomes too great for you bear it alone. That is the only way you can avoid your mother's fate; you must never forget that you love, and that you are loved. That is typically the only reason people turn their backs on what corruption offers them."

I nod. It is why I turned my back on it before…I had known that Waltz was there, trying to snap me out of it. He loved me, and I knew it. "Why do you think that I need _you_? I would not lean on a stranger, even if she was a cousin of yours. You mean more to me than nearly anyone. Don't run again Parfait…please stop running."

Parfait does not bother to choke back sobs as she folds me into her arms to hug me, and I do not try to quiet her as I return her embrace. A flicker catches my vision, and I look up to see tendrils of gold around the Lucis, and I feel the soft warmth of fairy magic. Of course…uncontrolled fairy magic would warm the room instead of shock people. And I cannot help but smile through my own tears as I hold my friend.

Parfait has found love again, perhaps joy, or even both. And it is high time. "You will stay with me?" I ask her. "You will not leave me…at least, you will not do so on purpose?"

"I'll stay," she promises me between sobs, "I will not take my life, myself. I…I will stop running, and go with you to the Throne. I swear it."

 _You deserve so much better than an early grave, my friend. You deserve to finally experience life. You have hidden from it for much too long._

"If we can lean on each other, my friend," I whisper to her, "neither of us will fall."

….


	49. When It Comes

**Chapter 49. When It Comes**

The air in the palace seems tense today. Waltz and I have just arrived, having received a message from Maeve that Sir Willard is presenting something important to my father this morning. And I do not know how I will keep Alcaster dangerous and this cycle going if Alcaster is arrested. I glance out the window toward the courtyard where the knights usually practice as we walk down the corridors towards my father's study, but it appears mysteriously empty today. The Redarms normally have the field at this hour.

And I know immediately that something is wrong. Obviously, they have better things to do than practice today.

I can feel a flash of magic from the direction of my father's study, and after a brief pause, there is another. Maeve would not have revealed herself unless it was an actual emergency. My husband and I exchange a brief glance, and we begin to run, startling servants as we pass. We do not pass any guards as we go, red-sleeved or otherwise, and all I can think is that something horrible must be happening.

When we finally get to my father's study, there is no one present outside and the door is ajar. Waltz enters first holding his magic, and I follow him inside. And I see blood on the carpet. On the floor in front of the desk is a white statue with a stone sword sticking in it, Sir Willard is sprawled on the floor with Maeve kneeling beside him, holding a bloody cloth against his scalp. She turns around to see the two of us. "Thank the gods," she says, and launches immediately into an explanation before I can ask her for one. "Willard was presenting evidence to the king, and Alcaster came in with some of his men. They overpowered Willard before I could get out of the pouch to see well enough to aim. By that time, Alcaster had taken Willard's sword and thrust it through your father. I made a flash of light bright enough that they knew that there was a witch present and they ran out the door. I turned the king into stone without removing the sword to keep him from bleeding to death…he is still alive, but you will have to break the curse keeping him that way before anything else can be done."

"Runia," my husband says, closing the doors behind us. "She's the only one that might be able to keep him that way."

I nod, opening a portal into the Witch Doctor's living room. I step through, and find her at her breakfast table, eating. "Runia, it's my father. There's been an assassination attempt."

The old witch puts her silverware down, grabs a large leather bag, and follows me through my portal without another word. Once we are back through, Sir Willard is starting to stir and Maeve is warning him to stay still. Runia spares him a quick glance before her eyes come to rest on my father. "You did not take the sword out of him, you kept him static. Thank the gods that you have a brain, child!"

"That…was actually me," Maeve admits.

"My point stands. Compared to me, you are all children," Runia says, levitating the statue form of my father to on top of his desk as I gather what I am sure is very important paperwork away into a single pile that I remove to a side table. She reaches into her bag, and starts pulling out items and sorting them. "I'm so old, I sometimes wonder why I am not dead yet."

"Is there anything else you need?" I ask Runia.

"A set of skilled hands," she grumbles. "Someone will have to hold arteries together while I repair them once you dismiss the curse."

I nod, make another portal to the Marchen and collect Chevalier in the same fashion that I collected Runia. When he stumbles through he freezes for a moment. "You!" he yells, looking at the old witch.

Runia looks up at him. "Yes, it's me boy. You'll do. We have to work quickly; the king cannot afford to lose much more blood. There's too much already on the carpet."

Chevalier's eyes fall to the carpet, and he grimaces before quickly rolling up his sleeves. While he does this, having finished with her other preparations, Runia spares a glance and a trickle of magic for Sir Willard who stops bleeding immediately and he sits up.

"Princess, I'm so sorry," Sir Willard begins as Maeve assists him to his feet. "Alcaster interrupted. He…he intends to frame you and I for your father's murder!"

"That will be difficult if my father lives," I say softly.

"I will warn you Bearer," Runia cautions me. "His survival is not guaranteed. Nothing in medicine ever is. Even if he does live, he is likely to be weak for some time."

"You will do your best?" I half ask, half state.

The old witch nods. "For you Bearer, yes. I have no love for a man that allows our kind to be even passively persecuted, when we fought the corrupted witches just as much as the fairies. However, you do…and I will not subject you to the grief so many of us suffered during the Witch Hunt and the Great War if it can be avoided."

"Thank you," I tell her.

" _I'm sorry, Lucette,"_ I hear coming from the statue. I move over, to beside my father's head. Of course…it's just like when I cursed Myth. He can still see, hear, and speak even though he cannot move his lips. _"I…should have seen this coming. I should have heeded the warning signs. They were all there."_

"Never mind that now. I need you to live, Father," I tell him. "Even if you cannot hang on…I still love you."

" _I love you Lucette, and…I am a fool,"_ he replies.

"Admitting to being a fool is the wisest thing anyone can say, but we need to get to work," Runia tells us. "Bearer, I will tell you when I want you to dispel the curse. After which, you will leave. Some of the fumes of the medications I will be using will not be good for your child, and I suspect you will be wanting to deal with the assassin if he can still be caught before doing any more damage. The doctor and I will be working in here. Leave Maeve outside the door and take the human and your husband with you as well. We will have Maeve find you if there are any changes, good or bad."

"Of course," I say, almost glad for an excuse to leave this bloody room. It smells of copper in here…and I know that it is my father's blood that I smell. I want to know immediately if my father lives or dies…but I am not sure that I could watch the surgery to remove the sword, either. As I look around, I note that Sir Willard has no sword, and pick up my father's out of the corner. "He will not mind if you are using it," I say, and the knight looks at it a moment before he nods, and slips it into his own scabbard. Fortunately, it fits.

The witch doctor rolls up her own sleeves, and coats her hands and arms with something from one of her bottles, and it turns into something like a pale blue second skin that dries over the surface of her hands. Chevalier does the same at her instruction. "Now, Bearer," the old witch commands, and I do not delay. The colors return to my vision, and I immediately dismiss my father's curse. He turns from stone to flesh immediately before Runia puts a rag soaked on one of her other potions in front of his nose. His tension releases immediately as his eyes close and he becomes unconscious. "Go away," Runia tells us, and we all file out of the door leaving her and Chevalier to work.

No sooner do we get out the door and into the hallway, then a frantic butler nearly runs into my husband before he can stop. "Your Highnesses, is the His Majesty in his study? He needs to know immediately!"

"Alcaster attempted to kill my father," I tell the butler, who now turns white. The man was so distressed he had forgotten to bow…for a butler to have forgotten that, something else must be seriously wrong as well. "The king is undergoing medical treatment to save his life at this very moment, and they are not to be disturbed."

"Alcaster…he…." I am not sure if the butler is shocked, or simply out of breath. The man gulps more air before he can continue. "The Redarms…most of them left the palace less than a half hour ago, and they had patrol duty within the palace this morning. I saw some of the Redarms myself forcibly pick up Her Majesty and carry her off. They gagged me, stuffed me in a closet, and locked the door. I banged as loud as I could, and one of the maids just let me out! I came as fast as I could, but there were no other soldiers to notify on my way here!"

I am very still for a moment. Alcaster planned this for when his men were supposed to be both patrolling the inside of the palace rather than its gates and the city walls, and those not assigned either duty were to be on the field practicing. That way, the loyal knights and guards would not be within earshot. The loyal men at the gate might have decided that the Redarms leaving were merely going to replace the men in their duties in the city itself. But Alcaster himself, as well as any hostages, left through the secret passages instead. "He has turned traitor, and is holding the queen hostage," is what I say. What I know is that he is attempting to frame me for my father's death, and convince the nation that he is 'saving' the queen…and perhaps one or even both of my stepsiblings…that he intends to plant as puppet rulers if he can turn my nation against me.

Alcaster _is_ planning a civil war. And since Sir Willard was going to expose him today, he picked his last possible chance at it. I could sing…and I could weep. I have more time, more danger to deal with…but my family….

Still, no one must fall for his ploy. "Sir Willard, you need to marshal the knights loyal to the king. Alcaster needs to be followed, the nearby lords and towns warned about his treachery before he can get to them, and the queen must be rescued. I also need to know if Rod or Emelaigne were taken as well. Until you hear differently, consider yourself in charge of military matters." And I know that he must have either Emelaigne or Rod, perhaps even both. He needs them perhaps even more than he needs Ophelia who would not be able to legally rule Angielle except as regent for one of her children, who would be legal heirs to the throne should I be 'disqualified.' Which one has he taken…which one do I think might be able to cope best with capture…which would be most likely to escape?

Sir Willard nods at my words, but under the circumstances he shows no outward satisfaction at his sudden promotion. "The guards at the city gates should be able to give us a general direction, if only of what way the Redarms went. As many men as he has with him…he should not be that hard to follow. It's what happens when we catch him that I worry over. I doubt he will turn over his hostages if we simply ask nicely."

"Ready your men to ride to follow them, and send riders to the gates immediately just in case Alcaster has not gotten through yet," I tell him. It only takes a few minutes to leave the palace through the secret passages when running, even with a burden. Alcaster and my stepmother were probably out of the palace when I entered the study. If I were I him, I would hide Ophelia, perhaps gagged and rolled up in a rug on a wagon, and make for the nearest gate. The chances of catching them before they leave the city are minuscule, but it must be attempted anyway. Considering that it sounds like the kidnapping occurred before the attack on my father, Ophelia might be nearly out of the city gates right now. She and Alcaster might not even be in the same party. If I were I him, I would travel separately from each of the hostages until out of the city. That way, even if one of the hostages were found, they would not be found with him lessening his chance of immediate arrest. "Once my father's status is known, I will send Maeve with you. I can use a spell to locate her, and send you additional troops and supplies. Waltz can take a courier and use portals to get to military establishments, towns, and lords with resources Alcaster needs so they can be warned against him." And Alcaster will have no place to spend the coin he has earned illegally; he had meant that coin to finance his rebellion if he failed to corrupt me.

"I don't like leaving you alone," my husband tells me.

"This is necessary," I tell him. "Just don't die on me, Darling."

"I wouldn't dare," my husband tells me. "I know that you will never let me hear the end of it if I did."

In spite of the situation, I have to smile at him. "You understand me so well."

Sir Willard looks confused at this exchange. "Never underestimate my wife," Waltz tells the knight. "She has no appreciation for the word 'impossible.'"

The knight shakes his head. "I'd be a fool if I did. I can only hope Alcaster faces the full price for doing so."

I turn back to the butler. "I am going to the scribal chambers. Have the servants look for Emelaigne and Rod. If you can find them, send them to me there. If they were seen taken as well…I need to know that, too. You may tell the other servants that the queen has been kidnapped, and that we need to find the status of the prince and princess immediately."

The butler bows, and after a quick, "Yes, Your Highness," runs off once more.

Sir Willard also leaves to go about his tasks, and Maeve remains at the door to my father's study while Waltz and I continue to the scribal chambers. I do not run as I must appear composed for everyone's sake, and long before I reach my destination servants appear to be flying around me as they search for my siblings.

I enter the large, well-lit chamber where scribes and administrators without rank enough to warrant their own offices work, and as Waltz and I enter a young man sees us and cries, "Attend their Highnesses." Pens are returned to their inkwells and chairs scrap the floor as the clerks rise to their feet to bow or curtsey to us.

I nod in acknowledgement, but I do not release them to their ease to return to work immediately. A few of the more experienced clerks begin to look in askance at this, and I address the entire room. "There has been at attempt on my father's life by Sir Alcaster," I say, and my words are greeted with gasping. "The king lives at this time, and is undergoing medical treatment. Alcaster was startled and unable to finish his task due to the efforts of one of my servants. However, Alcaster did escape her grasp due to her efforts to stabilize the king and save his life. It is known that the traitor kidnapped the queen before he left the palace. There will need to be notices circulated of Alcaster's treachery. I will dictate it as soon as I know if my siblings were taken as well, or not. Additional notices will be sent tomorrow concerning the king's status if he survives the night and is expected to recover, or the lack thereof. Please prepare for this task."

The now rattled clerks return to their seats, and begin putting their old work aside as they ready new parchments for this task. The head of the couriers comes to me immediately, and seems almost excited in spite of the circumstances when I tell him that he will have my husband's help to deliver notices to far off places before the traitor can reach them. Waltz further explains his own abilities and limitations, such as how far he can travel each time and how long he must rest before making another portal. The courier is still excited at the prospect, and believes that even taking Waltz's limitations into account, this message will be spread faster than any message has ever before.

I can only count this as a good thing. If people receive my message, the truth, first…they will be abler to see Alcaster's lies for what they are. I can only assume he plans to tell everyone that I killed my father, that he 'rescued' the queen and perhaps my sibling from me, and that I must be destroyed for my treason just as my mother needed to be destroyed years ago.

A few maids appear outside the door, and one of them pushes the other through only daring to peek around the doorway herself. The news is not good. The maid that had been shoved is trembling as she curtsies to me, and she glances up at my husband as if to reassure herself that he is there. I guess like some others, she considers Waltz the only one capable of calming me if I were to lose my temper, and protect her from its effects. This is more common with the staff that have experience in both serving me before my magic manifested as well as serving my mother, even though _I_ have never harmed anyone. "Your Highness…I regret to inform you that Princess Emelaigne was taken as well."

 _Emelaigne…he might have thought her easier to bend to his wishes…thought that threatening her might make Ophelia more compliant if it came down to it._ I close my eyes for a moment, but when I open them, the trembling maid is still before me. "And my brother?"

"I…I do not know, Your Highness," she answers.

"I need to know about him as well, the moment anyone finds anything," I say.

The maid drops another curtsy, so deep she nearly has her face on the floor. "Yes, Your Highness," she says before scurrying out of the room in obvious relief.

In only a few minutes, the head scribe asks me, "Are you ready to dictate, Your Highness?"

I nod when I see a familiar and welcome face appear in the doorway, and as I open my mouth to begin, Rod is practically thrust into the room by a frantic butler. "Lucette, what in the name of Chaos…?" Rod tries to say, but then I begin to dictate the notice. It will not be any easier for him to find out this way than if I take him aside and tell him quietly. The wound will still be just as deep.

"I, Princess Lucette Riella Briton, as the Crown Princess of Angielle, do hereby announce that Sir Alcaster Leverton, once Head of the Order of Caldira, has carried out an attempt to assassinate my father King Genaro Britton III. The king is undergoing medical treatment, and is considered to be in a serious state at this time," I start, and Rod's eyes grow large. "Alcaster has left the palace with traitors from among the knights that call themselves 'Redarms,' holding Queen Ophelia Widdensov and Princess Emelaigne Widdensov hostage." My brother is now pale, even as he stares at me, as if begging me to tell him that this is not so. "Any man or woman, regardless of rank or station, that freely and knowingly gives the traitors any aid…or even sells them so much as a stick of bread…for anything less than the safe return of the queen or the princess, shall be considered complicit in their treason and the appropriate penalties under the law will be applied to them. Anyone that is currently following Alcaster will receive a full pardon in exchange for the safe return of the queen or the princess, as well as land and title."

I do not think that this will necessarily stop them from replenishing their supplies, but they will have to steal rather than pay for them. The sentence for supplying an army of traitors rebelling against the Crown is five to ten years in prison, with at least two years of labor after that. If the perpetrator holds title or office, those honors are forfeit. If they steal from the populace of Angielle to feed themselves, it will be easier for everyone to believe that they are traitors if they brand themselves as thieves, and Alcaster will not deprive his men of food so theft thus the brand of 'traitor' is inevitable.

I have to guess that this is why he stooped to illegal means to get coin. If he paid for his army's supplies, they would not be seen as thieves, and the populace would be more likely to support him. And with the stroke of a pen, I have taken this advantage away from him. Myth would not have made that mistake, and I can only assume that the whole civil war plan was Alcaster's doing alone. It would be easy to think that perhaps it had always been Alcaster's plan, but then Myth had convinced him that a coup would be better instead.

As for the offer of pardon, land, and title…I do not know if this will motivate any of Alcaster's men to betray him or not, as I am unsure if he will allow them to see this notice once he finds it. However, the offer must be available and published just in case there is any chance of it working. At the very least, his foraging parties will find it if the local lords ask for the queen or princess in exchange for supplies and show them the announcement. I stopped short of promising Emelaigne's hand in marriage to her rescuer, as that would still be my father's prerogative so long as he lives no matter his condition…not to mention the fact that she is still smitten with Fritz. However, I would be able to grant land, title, and pardon on my own initiative so long as my father remains in a weakened state. Until my father is able to rise out of bed under his own power at the very least, it is my responsibility to rule for him.

There is frantic scribbling as the clerks take my message down in shorthand, voices as they compare the dictation with what everyone else has written to ensure the words are correct, and then more careful work as they begin to craft my message into official notices. I turn around and walk over to where my brother still stands, gaping at me. "I'm so sorry Rod. We are going to try to recover them," I tell him softly enough that my words will not carry further than a few feet.

"Will you swear it?" he asks me, wanting my promise that he knows that I cannot fail to honor.

"That we will try? Yes. As to success…I know that they were taken alive," I tell him. "I cannot give a promise of success when I do not know if they remain that way even now. And until I know if my father lives or dies at the very least, I must remain in the palace myself and refrain from putting myself in any danger that promise could imply…or do _you_ have a burning desire to be king? If both Father and I die or go missing, and with Emelaigne also gone, you would be next in line…and that is assuming that I would be willing to risk myself when I am carrying a child in the first place."

He opens his mouth and then closes it again, his cheeks pink. He knows that I cannot risk myself, risk my child, and is embarrassed for having asked it of me. Rod just spoke before thinking things through. He knows that if things go badly, I could find myself the acting queen within the next few hours. "What are the chances of his survival?" he asks eager to cover his mistake, as well as because he needs to know if he will lose his second father in addition to his first.

"They are as good as I can make them," I tell him, and Rod frowns, taking my meaning. Some things are simply out of my hands.

"I will need to leave, probably in less than a few hours, to help as I can," Waltz tells Rod. We need preliminary reports of which way Alcaster is headed before we know where Waltz should be sent first. "Please watch your sister for me."

Rod looks startled. "But…but I can't use magic, a sword, or even a dagger. I don't know how I could possibly help in the least!"

"You have eyes she can trust," Waltz tells him. "Just watch her back, and call her attention to anyone else trying to kill her. She is capable of doing the rest."

Rod nods slowly, and I am grateful to my husband. If Rod has a task, he will be better able to cope while we wait for news. And it will not hurt to have him on the lookout, either. It will make Waltz feel a little better about leaving me if he knows that someone he can trust is watching out for me…though I may have to get Jurien from the Marchen to pull night duty, as I will now have to sleep in the palace. I will have to have her banishment from the palace revoked immediately.

"My pardon, Princess," I hear from behind me, and I turn to see Sir Decimond coming from the other side of the room with Tuttle standing behind him, his eyes still alert even while the 'clerk' fades into the background. "First, my condolences for the conditions of your father, stepmother, and stepsister. My wife will be beside herself for Princess Emelaigne's kidnapping alone. Is the king expected to survive?"

"I summoned the Witch Doctor to treat him," I tell my father's political advisor. Well, I guess that he is _my_ political advisor right now. "She gave me no definite answer. She expects him to be weak for some time if he does survive."

Sir Decimond nods. "Please excuse me for asking, Princess, but what price did she demand? I am sure that any boon she might ask would be well worth His Majesty's life, but if there are any arrangements I need to make…?"

"The only thing Runia has stated or implied that she wishes," I tell him, "is the charge of the patient within her care, as far as medical matters are concerned, until he is recovered enough that he no longer needs her attention." And I can just see that old witch ordering the king of Angielle to bed if she thinks that he is overexerting himself, and enjoying every second of it. I hope that he will live in order for her to be able to do so. And I need to ask the other Bearers if they have a budding Healer that needs a master to apprentice under, but the political advisor has nothing to do with that.

"That…is not something I find disagreeable," Sir Decimond admits, "but it will be important to show others, at least some others in authority, that the king still lives if she is able to save his life."

"I am aware of that," I admit. "Do you have any further suggestions in the meanwhile?"

He smiles at me. "When you have responded to this emergency in a perfect manner, Your Highness? I can think of nothing that you do not currently have in the works. Is there anything else you may need on my end?"

"Rescind the order that banishes Jurien Valiente and Garlan Belrott from the palace, and restore them to full privileges and rank as members of the Order of Caldira," I tell him. "They were put away over a year ago for bringing suspicions of Alcaster's wrongdoing to my father's attention. It was unfortunate that he chose not to believe them at that time…but obviously, they have been vindicated."

"Of course, Princess," Sir Decimond responds, and Tuttle comes next with an offering for my attention.

"My sympathies and apologies, Your Highness," Tuttle says as he holds out a lap-desk with two parchments. "With His Majesty unable to sign…you are the only choice to review and choose one of these documents for circulation."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I tell him, as I turn my attention to his offering. "You always do your duty perfectly." It goes unsaid, but the look I give him says that it is not his fault that my father did not heed his advice.

He places the lap-desk on a nearby table, and I turn to read the papers upon it, noting that the ink is quite dry. Tuttle has had these parchments, this choice, prepared for some time. Both documents strip Alcaster of his rank and command, but the first is a warrant for his arrest while the second specifically states that Alcaster may be taken either alive or dead. It is essentially a death warrant with just enough wiggle room for Alcaster to know he might live if he surrenders his hostages. Under the circumstances…I find that I have no other choice.

I sign the second warrant, the pen nearly slashing the parchment as I apply my name. My arms and hands feel heavy, still remembering the weight of Fritz's sword, and the resistance I felt going through Alcaster's neck with it. After all, I have killed the man before. Perhaps I will again.

….


	50. Good and Bad News

**Chapter 50. Good and Bad News**

In less than two hours, we have received preliminary reports concerning which way Alcaster went. Before I let my husband leave, I make him promise that he will not deliberately put himself in any danger without approval from Sir Willard or myself for the rest of this cycle. It would be just like him to think he could affect a rescue on his own, and maybe he could, but I do not want to risk him. I cast a spell on Maeve with Waltz so we will both be able to find her as she travels with Sir Willard, kiss my husband goodbye, and he goes with a courier and a large bag of the notices through a portal. I used another portal myself to grab Parfait long enough to tell her what is happening. She expresses her sympathies, but the look she gives me says something else as well.

We _still_ have not heard an affirmative agreement from Veles. Had Sir Willard successfully ended the threat Alcaster poised, my time might be up. The Tenebrarum is nearly repaired so it might be able to save my son without shattering right now, but if I do not have Veles's aid to get into the gods' own city, it might not matter. If Sir Willard has to chase Alcaster around for a few weeks instead of having the traitor beheaded tomorrow…in a way, this is the best outcome I could hope for. I have been given more time. If Emelaigne and Ophelia are recovered, it is good because they will not suffer as much. If they both die, that will cause me to experience more pain that will be used to finish healing the Tenebrarum and fill more of the measure on my dagger. Either way, the outcome is 'favorable.'

And I hate it that we are both thinking this way. It makes me physically ill.

The drawback of this, of course, is what Ophelia and Emelaigne will have to go through in the meantime. I know that Alcaster will carefully preserve their lives so long as he thinks they might be useful to him as puppets, but if he finds that Angielle will not follow him against me they will only be useful as bargaining chips…and Alcaster is the type of man that wants his way instead of having to bargain for only part of what he wants. He is just as likely to decide to take everyone with him in a 'glorious' last stand as surrender his hostages in exchange for a sentence of banishment instead of one of death.

All this passes between us silently, as Rod is standing right beside me. The only other thing I tell her is that Jurien's banishment has been lifted, and that Parfait should send her to bed because if she can be spared from the Marchen, Jurien has the night watch for my guard while I must remain in the palace. I also give her a document penned in my own hand and sealed with the royal seal so the guards at the gate will let Jurien through, and what the reinstated knight's assignment is. I am taking no chances that Alcaster may have left someone in the palace with instructions to kill me at night, so I need someone I trust absolutely to watch my door.

Rod and I take a late lunch in the dining room, and with only the two of us at the large table it seems empty. With Father still being treated and perhaps hovering between life and death, Ophelia and Emelaigne taken, and Waltz gone spreading the message…there are only the two of the six of us left to eat lunch here. I notice that the servants have removed the place settings that we will not need, and I am grateful for the effort because the extra settings would have only emphasized the absence of those not with us.

The servants appear to be doing what they can for us, and even though the cook has gone to the trouble of making one of my favorite dishes, as well as one of Rod's, I have to force myself to keep taking bites of my meal. I might not eat at all, but a very small someone is kicking right now as if to remind me that he would appreciate some food.

I look up from my own plate which is about half clean, to see Rod uncharacteristically slumped in his chair, merely pushing food around on his own plate with his fork. "I do not have much of an appetite either," I tell him, "but the baby is protesting right now, and I need to feed him at any rate."

"He's lucky," Rod decides, sitting up properly as he abandons his fork on his plate. "He has no idea what is going on. He knows nothing but warmth."

Warmth…and the sounds around him. My son is also familiar with the sound of my tears, even if he has no idea what they signify. How could he know? "Blissful ignorance is a part of being a child, I think," I tell my brother. "Once that is lost, so is childhood. You find out that the monsters hiding under your bed are imaginary, just as you find out that there are real monsters that you have to fight yourself. There are some battles no one else can fight for you."

My brother grimaces. "I just…tell me that they are alright."

"As long as Alcaster thinks they are useful, they will live," I tell him. "If he thinks they can be manipulated to do his will rather than needing more…forceful…persuasion, they will remain unharmed. Hopefully, they are smart enough to pretend they will accede to his wishes, that they believe whatever he tells them. If he relaxes their guard enough, that makes an escape more likely. He will only kill them if he believes that he has nothing to gain from keeping them alive, or if he thinks he has something to gain from their deaths."

Rod is silent for a moment. "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear."

"I will not offer you any comfortable lies in the place of painful truths," I tell him.

"I can respect that," he says slowly. "I am not a child to need them, anymore. I…just wish that they had taken me instead of my sister."

"If Alcaster was planning to set one of you up as a puppet ruler if he could rally Angielle against me, she would take preference over you as an heir to the throne," I tell him. "Were you older than she, he might have made extra effort and kidnapped you instead. But there is nothing you could do to make yourself older than yours sister."

Rod only sighs in response, and I think of something else. "Where were you when this was going on, by the way? Could they just not find you? I see no reason you would not have been taken as well if it were convenient for them to do so." He had to be on palace grounds instead of walking in town, to be found by that butler so quickly.

Rod grimaces. "I had asked for extra sword lessons this morning, but since the Redarms were supposed to have the field this morning, my teacher and I were out practicing near the walls, near the gate the Redarms did _not_ use to get out. That's where that butler found me, shouting that it was an emergency and that you needed me right away."

 _He varied his routine, so they did not find him. I suppose that even shoddy swordsmanship can save people sometimes._ "Then it's good that you needed the extra lessons," I tell him. "You may have saved yourself. Were you a good swordsman, you would probably be gone."

My brother does not have time to do more than frown at the table when the doors to the dining room open, and Maeve comes in and curtsies to me. She is wearing a smile as she does so, and I breathe a sigh of relief before she even opens her mouth.

"Your father lives, Bearer," Maeve tells me. "Runia is moving him to his rooms as we speak, and you may talk to him for a few minutes after she has him situated."

"Thank the gods," I breathe. I stand and turn to a butler that is standing against the wall. "Inform Sir Decimond of the king's survival, and then tell the other administrators as well."

"Yes, Your Highness," the butler replies, bowing to me with a look of relief on his own face before leaving to carry out his task. If I remember correctly, this butler serves my father on a fairly regular basis. As I look around at the other servants, their faces appear relieved as well. My father is well loved by the staff.

I turn to Maeve. "Thank you for your own efforts. Father would not have lived long enough for Runia to save him if it had not been for your own actions." _And now my father has personal experience with a curse cast by a good witch to benefit a human. There is almost a poetic justice to that._

Maeve smiles as she curtsies to me once more. "Thank you, Bearer," she tells me. She knows that all the servants know her as a witch now, and one involved with saving the king's life. As much as servants gossip, that reputation will stick with her. She might be able to live the rest of her life openly as a witch now, and not be troubled for it as she saved the life of a beloved king…assuming time does not reset, which it will. I find it a pity that the heroism of such a woman will be forgotten as the next cycle proceeds. I will be the only one to remember. "Runia says that she has no further need of me, and is watching over your father herself. You said that you might send me with Sir Willard to help him in his duties…?"

I nod. "He is finishing preparations to go after the traitor as we speak, and is probably meeting in the barracks with his officers right now. As far as I am concerned, your aid no longer needs to be discrete." Meaning that she may ride a horse instead of in Sir Willard's pocket, openly as my servant. Sir Willard will also tell his men that she is the witch that kept the king alive in the initial phase of the assassination attempt. The soldiers might view her warily, but they will be grateful enough for her actions that a few suspicious glances will be all she will have to bear. After all, she had accomplished the same duty they are sworn to with no oath on her part at all, and they owe her for it.

"It is a pleasure to serve you, Bearer," Maeve tells me, still smiling as she drops one more curtsey before hurrying out the door.

I turn around to my brother. "If you are finished…."

Rod gets up from the table immediately. "We should go see him. And…and he needs to know about Mother and Emelaigne."

And I get a lump in my throat. I will probably need to tell him myself. I am not going to make Rod tell him as I think he is barely holding together himself, and that news needs to come from family. This assumption is further warranted by the way Rod appears to be trying to look in every direction as we walk down the halls to my father's suite; he is holding so tightly to his promise to watch me for Waltz, he does not allow himself to break apart while accomplishing this task. It is probably only when Jurien replaces him tonight that he will retire to his own room, and allow himself to fully process the events of the day.

When we reach my father's suite, we enter into the parlor area to find a small crowd there. The door to my father's bedroom is shut, and Runia is giving a list of strict instructions to the servants circling her.

"He can drink in several hours if he wishes, but no solid food for three days," she tells them in a tone that should be accompanied by finger wagging. "For the first day, only broth, and other liquids clear enough for me to see through! If he wants honey in his tea, that is fine, but no milk! On the second day, he can have anything else he can drink, including soup, and some soft foods. If he can keep that down, he may have whatever he likes the day after that. He is not allowed out of bed at all until tomorrow, but may sit in a chair then. On the third day, he may walk short distances. At that point, you can attach wheels to the bottom of a chair and push him around the palace if he's feeling strong enough. I will be staying myself until the morning just in case, but Dr. Chevalier will watch him after that and tend to his medication. If I find that my orders have been violated in the _slightest_ , I will track down the perpetrator, and turn him into a squirrel!"

And I cannot help but smile. The old witch has gotten her chance to order the king of Angielle to bed, and I am sure that she is loving it.

"Your Highness?" the ranking butler says as he notices me standing there.

"Do as she says," I tell them. "And get Runia, as well as Dr. Chevalier, quarters however close to their patient as they want them. And a meal as well…I pulled Runia away from her breakfast this morning."

Runia nods as if she expected no other response from me, and I would not say anything else anyway. For one thing, we do not need any more squirrels in the palace.

The servants disperse from around Runia, and I approach her. "Thank you so much for your efforts. May I see my father now?" I ask.

She nods. "Yes, he is awake, or was a few minutes ago. He was asking for you, and your stepmother as well. I'm not sure that he will sleep without medication before he sees you." She is silent for a moment. "What of the assassin?"

"Alcaster escaped the city walls, and with Ophelia and Emelaigne as hostages," I admit. "Sir Willard should be leaving the palace with men to conduct the pursuit as we speak."

The old witch hisses quietly. "That is not welcome news, but your father will need to hear it. I might have to mix up something for a dreamless sleep. He will need it."

"Sir Decimond was wanting to show a few others that Father still lives, so they would not get the wrong idea," I admit. "You might want to wait to give him anything strong until after that."

"Fine," Runia grumbles in a way that tells me she clearly wishes that she could let her patient sleep. Unfortunately, some duties cannot be ignored. She turns to a maid that is standing beside the door. "Tell the man that he can bring up to six people to see the king in about an hour for a _short_ visit. After that, I am attending to my patient's own needs."

The maid curtsies, and hurries out the door at a run. Perhaps she thinks that Sir Decimond will need as much time to summon those he needs to get them to the palace, but I know better. The advisor probably sent messengers summoning those he wanted to the palace as soon as he had spoken with me earlier today. Most of them may be here by now. He is probably in his office, telling them that he is awaiting the last to arrive before telling them what they are there for. At least, I am sure that that was what he was doing before that butler found him to tell him of the king's survival.

It is not without some amount of trepidation that I turn to face my father's bedroom door, and place my hand on the latch. I enter a darkened room lit only by a few candles to see Chevalier sitting on a chair beside my father's bed. My father is in a nightshirt, propped up with pillows so he sits up slightly, and covered past his waist by a light blanket. He stirs at hearing the noise of the door latch clicking as Rod shuts it behind us. "Father?" I say softly, walking over to beside the bed. Chevalier quickly abandons the chair, and I take it. Rod walks over to drag another chair over so he can sit beside me. "Father, I am here," I say as I reach out to grasp his hand. I hear the door open and close again, but I assume without looking that it is just Chevalier leaving.

"Lucette," he says softly, sounding more tired and looking as pale as I have ever seen him. He turns his head and his own yellow eyes find mine. "My Lucette…my light."

And I can no longer hold back tears as they begin to run down my cheeks, and I find that I have to funnel uncalled power away into a harmless shield. I am only surprised that I have held off for this long without needing to do so. It seems to be taking more powerful emotions from me to gain power from the Tenebrarum as it heals…it must be nearly repaired. My son will live, until the next cycle at least.

My father's eyes widen as he notices that I am weeping, and I realize that he has never seen me do this before. As I weep in Waltz's arms nearly every day my tears are no novelty to me, but to my father….

"Lucette, what else happened?" he asks, and then his eyes flicker to Rod's face. Even in this lighting, he can see that Rod appears pale. "Rod, you are here, but where is…?"

"Ophelia and Emelaigne were taken by Alcaster and his men," I say, wanting to get it out as fast as I can. I do not want him to suffer dread for longer than necessary, only to find that the dread was justified. I remember being terrified to open my eyes, the first morning of this cycle, when I had realized that I could not feel Waltz there beside me…and then when I finally opened them, I found my husband gone, and knew that it had started all over again. It had been two blows, one right after the other, instead of one blow. "They were taken alive, and Alcaster and his Redarms made it out of the gate. I have sent Sir Willard in pursuit, and published the appropriate notices already. Waltz is helping with that."

My father's eyes grow haunted. "He…he…took them," he says softly. "Sir Willard had found proof that Alcaster tried to murder your child and husband. Alcaster tried to kill me, and blame a loyal man and essentially you in connection. He took my wife, and our daughter…." My father is silent for a moment. "After failing to corrupt you, he decided to try to start a civil war. How…?"

My father appears to be unable to clearly state it is what he wonders, and there are so many ways to finish that thought. How could Alcaster betray him? How could he not see the signs, or why did he ignore them? How could he not have sent Ophelia and the children away just to be on the safe side like Tuttle had suggested?

Maybe he simply wonders how this could have happened to him…to us.

"Under the circumstances," I tell him, "I hope you do not mind that I signed an offer for pardon and title for anyone that rescues Ophelia or Emelaigne, or a death warrant for Alcaster."

My father shakes his head. "No Lucette, both actions are warranted. And…I will leave such matters to you until the witch Healer allows me out of bed." He is silent for a moment before starting to weep. "I should have heeded…I should have sent them somewhere safe," he manages to get out before dissolving into tears.

I hear a sniffing noise from beside me, and look over to see that Rod has started to cry too. I grasp my brother's hand as well, and the three of us spend the remainder of the hour weeping together.

Right now, that is all we can do. And for perhaps the first time, I feel as if the three of us…the passive father, the silent brother, and the unwillingly manipulative daughter…are really family, as we are united in our grief.

….

For the first five days, I take care of all the essential duties of the monarch with Sir Decimond at my side while my father convalesces. It is the first time I have ever done this, and I am grateful that I did take my father up on training me to do so earlier in the cycle. Sir Decimond assures me that I am doing well, especially considering the circumstances. Some of the 'minor' problems that my father usually deals with mysteriously disappear as the city reels from the shock of recent events, and most of the nobles that have come to see my father for one reason or another give me their well wishes for his recovery instead of letting me address their concerns. According to Sir Decimond, these are the same that show up a couple of times a year hoping to advantage their own property or business by asking some favor of the king, and that I should spare them no mind because my father usually politely tells them to go back home and play fair with one another.

I decide that they simply believe that a pregnant witch that has just been deprived of most of her family would have little patience for pettiness. That is fine with me, because I really do have very little tolerance for such right now.

During most waking hours, Rod is my shadow. I think that this is at least as much due to his promise to Waltz to watch me as it is a desire for any information about his mother and sister. He knows that if anything is found, Father and I will be the first to be told…and with Father still in bed, I might be told first. He does prefer to take meals wherever I happen to be working rather than going to the dining room, which is fine as far as I am concerned.

"It's just so…empty there," my brother tells me, pulling a chair up to Father's desk in the large study to eat lunch one day. I cannot help but marvel that the servants got all of that blood cleaned up in here…and then I finally notice that there is simply a different carpet on the floor.

"It is," I sigh, carefully placing important paperwork to the side so I will not get gravy on it. Only the two of us are in the study, with a butler and guards outside and Sir Decimond gone to take his own lunch with his wife. He has moved Viorica to the palace, as he has moved himself in until things are settled. "It only emphasizes they are not there."

"It's ok if you tell me that you miss Waltz," Rod says.

And I miss him every second I am not engrossed in something else. My husband has been such a part of my day, I feel like I should turn around and see him standing there. And when I do turn around, I realize that he is not there all over again…even though I know this is just temporary.

I wake up at night sometimes, in my bedroom in the palace, and momentarily panic when he is not there until I notice that the doll shelf is not there either. It is then that I realize that the cycle has not restarted yet again…that there is still a chance for me, and for my son. "It seems…selfish of me to say so," I tell my brother. "Especially when he is handling communications for Sir Willard, and not in any direct danger."

"But he is still not here," Rod points out. "And you want him to be. Just like I think I should see Emelaigne if I turn around…or Mother."

My brother falls quiet for a long minute, just staring at his food, not touching it. "I checked, I always do now," I tell him. "It's not poisoned."

Rod shakes his head at me. "It's not that. I just want to know that they are coming back."

And I want to tell him that even if the worst happens, in a few weeks Emelaigne will be bursting through the doors of the dining room again, going on about her fairytale books. But I do not. "I will make no promises concerning that," is what I tell him. "Scrying is not always reliable." In fact, in my one lesson with that, I had been seeing mostly things that happened in the 'future' of the other cycles. Waltz told me that that made sense, because it is easier for things to appear in crystal if the witch has some knowledge of them. In fact, the only thing that I saw that I had not seen before was the witch that is impersonating a priest taking a blue child from a frantic mother, and the child began to turn pink again, and the child's breathing eased. But this made little sense since I know the man is supposed to be a scholar with a little ability in illusion, and not a healer of any sort. Parfait had confirmed that, when I had spoken with her and told her his real name; that he was indeed the witch scholar she had spoken of previously.

At any rate, it has nothing to do with Ophelia or Emelaigne.

After the first five days, Father is able to rise from his bed, and walk a little without getting dizzy. I catch him up on what I have and have not taken care of as he sits in a chair in the small study of his suite, but he still delegates most matters to me as he continues to recover. Still, we hear nothing about the chase that is going on, far from the palace gaits.

We hear no word for an entire week. When we do, it is a letter from Sir Willard that appears on my father's desk, the first day Father is able to sit up in his chair for long enough to get much of anything done. Waltz put a note on the bottom of the page, saying that he will open very small portals at the desk to give updates and receive instructions every evening, but not larger portals because they will take too much power at that distance. And that he loves me and misses me, of course. I smile fondly even as I wish he had used a separate parchment I could keep, instead of penning that in at the end of Sir Willard's official report.

Alcaster seems to have tried to get into several towns, but they were walled and closed against him as soon as the sentries saw that they wore red. Even with Alcaster burning bridges behind him, Sir Willard was close enough that Alcaster had moved on rather than staying to fight to get over any walls. And the notices Waltz was spreading are appearing to work, as local lords refuse both sanctuary and supplies to Alcaster, closing their keeps against him. They even have enough notice to bring their shepherds and flocks behind walls, so animals are not stolen for food. The only prey left are the small unwalled villages and towns with the farms they subsist from, but even the local mayors have been warned against Alcaster so the Redarms are reduced to theft from those townships and farms.

I knew when I wrote the announcement that this would happen, that those able to protect themselves from Alcaster would do so, and then he would prey on those that had no defense against him. If this really was a civil war instead of something that would be erased in weeks, it would leave the villages destitute, but the nation poisoned against Alcaster. But I know that the people in those hamlets will go hungry in the meantime, and even with those thefts, the Redarms might still be hungry as well.

Maeve is proving herself very useful in replacing the bridges Alcaster had burned. With her magic, what should slow the knights for days slows them for less than half of one instead as she stoneshapes rock to make even better bridges than the ones that had been destroyed. This allows not only for Sir Willard's men to cross safely, but supply trains of food and goods as well as reinforcements consisting of men-at-arms from local lords wishing to prove their loyalty to the Crown to find them. After all, there is nothing like a probable looser in rebellion against the Crown to make lords want to affirm their loyalty to the throne. What Alcaster lacks, Sir Willard has and is gaining more. By now, Alcaster has to know that once he has to fight, he is dead. Which is probably why he keeps moving as fast as he can. Everyone, probably including Alcaster himself, knows that he cannot run forever and time does not favor him.

I doubt he expected so much opposition, that instead he would be able to enter towns and spread his lies that I had to be defeated for killing my father. He probably thought that he could rouse the country against a witch quickly…but Waltz has ensured everyone in his path knew the truth of the situation before he even neared the towns' gates. Even if people do not wholly believe my side of the story, my edict is enough to stop them from open support. I have declared myself both vengeful and generous; those that believe me more my mother's daughter consider me vengeful, and those that believe me more my father's daughter consider me generous. Either way, it would make sense to follow my commands.

Sir Willard notes that he had sent a messenger with a parley flag to negotiate terms to release Ophelia and Emelaigne, with documents stating that even pardon would not be off the table for their safe return. However, the man had been found dead with the seals of his message unbroken, and a note stabbed to his chest with a knife saying that any attempt at rescue would mean death for the hostages. Obviously, Alcaster is not interested in parley.

Some men would rather control their own destiny, rather than let anyone else dictate it…even if their path leads directly to the grave. Or else Alcaster simply does not want his men to know that they could still earn pardon or even more by returning their hostages, and only death if they do not. I can only guess that Alcaster wants his men to believe that they are doomed to his own fate, to keep them from abandoning him.

To treat his own men in such a way….

Alcaster would have made a terrible king.

….

It is after I end an evening session with the Tenebrarum that it hits me once more how much I miss my husband. I had not been to it for well over a week as events have been causing enough pain and stress on their own, but now….

During previous sessions, Waltz had always been there to comfort me, to hold me as I wept. Now, Jurien waits outside what had once been my mother's private sanctum, and I am alone as I work. And I dare not go too far into the pain, knowing that there is no one to catch me if I start to fall.

When I judge myself finished for the evening, looking over the now nearly flawless Crystallum, I wash my face and check myself in the mirror to ensure I appear composed even though it still feels like there are thorns around my heart without Waltz to banish them. I open the door, and collect Jurien who is sitting against the wall of the passage. She has been my companion from sunset to sunrise, since I had her banishment repealed. When she arrived, I told her that my father thought that she had taught me the sword _before_ she was banished, and to play along. Once my father was able to sit up in bed, she accepted his apology with grace. Now, as she gets up, she looks at me with something like pity. "You miss your husband, don't you Princess?"

"Only when my heart beats," I tell her softly, and my response makes her grimace as well. "Is it as much as you miss Garlan? There is no need to hide it from me if you do miss him."

Jurien sighs. "I do miss him. He was so much a part of my life, he always had my back, and now I turn around and he is not there anymore. It's like a part of me is missing."

"Then you would give him another chance?" I ask her. "He wanted me to encourage him to confess to you in the next cycle."

Jurien nods. "Do it. Both of the Bearers he was sent to agreed to help you, so he has done his part to help end this. He deserves another chance."

"And because you miss him," I note.

"I only miss that man every now and then…just when my heart beats," Jurien tells me, sharing my wry smile with me before we go through the hidden door that to return to the public hallways of the palace.

I have only gotten halfway to my room when a maid finds me, and curtsies. "Your Highness," she says, "His Majesty would like to see you in his office before you retire for the evening."

"Very well," I answer. "Tell him that I am coming," I say, and the maid scurries toward my father's study much faster than I can glide. Maids are allowed to run as they wish, but princesses only in emergencies. "I wonder what this is all about, and why he's not in bed, himself," I half mutter to Jurien. Father has been able to do more of his work, which is what freed me up to perform mine tonight, but it is getting late.

"I couldn't say, Princess," Jurien admits. "With Chevalier not keeping an eye on him every waking moment anymore, it would not surprise me if your father is trying to push his limits a little."

"Men," I sigh, as I walk towards the study where I had found a statue in a pool of blood not so long ago.

Jurien actually gives me a wry smile as we walk. "I suppose," she says, "that even His Majesty himself cannot escape the failings of that designation."

I find myself actually chuckling a little at that in spite of myself. I suppose that without the company of my husband, the company of a friend is the next best thing. The thorns feel a little less sharp.

When we reach the study, Jurien looks into it first to ensure that only my father is there with his own guard waiting outside before joining the other knight outside the door to keep watch. I enter, and shut the door behind me. "You wanted to see me, Father?" I ask, taking the chair in front of his desk.

My father, who is seated behind the desk, appears to be engrossed in a parchment that he puts down when I address him. "Yes, Lucette. I have received a report from Sir Willard."

"Then do not leave me in suspense," I say. Waltz makes his portal at sunset every day, so we know when to look for new information and when to have new orders on the desk. Father would have received this report more than a few hours ago. Why would he still be perusing it? "What does he say?"

"They have found which way Alcaster went in that forest, and he appears to be heading toward Fort Summerfell," my father says. I know that particular fort to be on the northern seaboard, near the border with Brugantia. It protects a harbor town, and serves as a deterrent to the raiders of the north. Both the fort and the town are isolated from every direction but one strip of land and the sea, so I could see where Alcaster might think the fort's commander unaware of his treachery. Is he desperate, or has he truly not yet figured out that Waltz is using portals to warn people about him? "He thinks that the fort might be Alcaster's target, but it is well defended enough that Alcaster would have to use guile instead of mere force. He is unsure if Alcaster intends to take the fort and use it as a staging ground for further action, or if he intends to make free with the boats of the harbor to escape with his forces elsewhere."

"I could see either being plausible," I admit. Some mercenary companies have started under similar conditions. Failed rebels have become soldiers of fortune, before. However, I somehow doubt that Alcaster intends to use Ophelia and Emelaigne as shields as he escapes elsewhere and turns his forces into a mercenary band. His goals have always been loftier than that. "If he succeeds either way, it would make it harder to recover Ophelia and Emelaigne."

My father nods. "The fort has been forewarned against him, and the likely tactics Alcaster might employ to gain entry. Sir Willard is considering different methods of rescue, since Alcaster has resisted negotiation for their release." His mouth twists. I suppose killing a messenger carrying a parley flag could be classified as 'resisting negotiation.' It is a tactic considered most foul, as parley messengers are always sent unarmed; the man would have died without even having the satisfaction of a chance of dying with the blood of an enemy on his blade. "At any rate, Maeve and Waltz have volunteered to attempt a rescue themselves since we are all certain that an unsuccessful rescue will result in the deaths of the hostages. However, Sir Willard is hesitant to risk your husband's life even in exchange for that of the queen and a princess, and it is impractical for Maeve to go by herself since she is incapable of making portals."

I grip the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white as he says this. _Waltz_ …. "Father, I…." I take a deep breath. The thing about sneaking into an enemy camp is that most of the traitors should know each other by face, if not necessarily by name. As competent as my husband is in a fight, he is not the thespian I am, and he does not move like a soldier. Even wearing an illusion to disguise himself, he might still be recognized as someone that did not belong in camp, and attacked. What if Waltz were to die in such an attempt? He could die from someone sticking a sword in him just like anyone else. Death cancels marriage contracts. When I awake during the next cycle, he would remember nothing. Not only would he not remember marrying me during the last cycle, he would not remember falling in love with me during this one. I close my eyes and shudder at the thought.

I fought so hard for him. Would I have the strength to fight even harder a second time?

"I can see that he is right to hesitate," my father says softly, and I open my eyes to meet those of my father's. "Everyone knows that you changed when Waltz came back into your life, and Sir Willard fears that his loss may be the worst possible thing that could happen to you. It is obvious to everyone that you are in love with your husband, and the loss of a loved one has been known to turn witches to corruption before. How valid is this concern?"

How much would it injure me to lose my husband, even temporarily, only to regain him without his memories within weeks? I know that I will need to fix the Tenebrarum again, and that I will have to do so much faster than I did this time. I will need him even more then than I did this round. If he cannot remember loving me in the next cycle, I would not to be able to bear as much pain. I would be more likely to fail…to fall. And I cannot do that…not now.

Waltz should never have volunteered, but he cares for Ophelia and Emelaigne too. _He_ thinks he can do this without dying, but I am less certain. And I am grateful that I made him promise that he would not do anything risky without getting permission; otherwise, he might have tried it already.

My eyes drop to the desk. "I would not want to risk his death, but I cannot ask you to risk the deaths of Ophelia and Emelaigne for me." Even though I know that those potential deaths would be temporary, I still cannot bring myself to ask him to risk them. I take a deep breath. "I do think that my husband's death would affect me more than the deaths of my sister and stepmother. But…did you know that this happens to witches sometimes when a family member dies, back during the Witch Hunts? That the trauma of a loved one dying can put them into an emotional state that allows corruption to decide that they are vulnerable, and present itself?"

"I…did not know the exact mechanism of how that worked until this moment," my father slowly admits. "Just that some witches that had once been liked by their communities turned to darkness when a family member was killed."

"Why did you father allow it, if you knew even that much?" I ask. "Did he not realize that he was allowing Angielle to make the witches into what the populace thought they were from the spread of those children's tales? The witches did not even have to do anything wrong to be killed…even the children were killed simply because they would use magic one day!"

My father is silent for a long moment. "Your mother said almost the exact same thing, when she came before my father, just before she murdered him."

"I am not saying that she had the right to murder him," I tell my father. "She did have a right to be furious with him. He allowed his subjects to commit murder and infanticide, and then denied their victims justice! That is how Runia's only child died. They even mobbed and murdered a _Healer_ that would have served them, just because she was a witch. She was even with child herself, at the time. They killed not only one Healer…they murdered two. That talent is blood-bound, and the babe would have been a Healer, one day."

My father lets out a long sigh. "I guess that it is good that Runia did not turn, when that happened. As it was…I remember her saying something to the effect that she was treating me for your sake, and not mine."

"Some people are stronger, and some are weaker," I tell him quietly. "It takes more to break some, than others." _And I know that I have to face the same pain my mother did. Will I be stronger than she was?_ "With Bearers…we feel the deaths as they occur. I can tell when a witch has died, and roughly how they did die. For example, if someone dies old in their bed, it's more like a sigh as they pass on." And I have felt this several times, since I became Bearer. "If it is violent instead…well, it's like reliving their final moments. I feel the exact same pain as they die."

"And that is what your mother bore, before she accepted corruption," my father admits, uncomfortably. "She…told me of it, on occasion."

I nod. "She had the choice to accept corruption or not, and she bore the responsibility of that choice…but the humans were the ones that caused her to have that choice in the first place. They bear some responsibility for what happened, as well. Crimes do not exist in vacuum, and your father denied justice. You have never spoken to me about what he was like as a man or a father, but he can't have been much of a king to allow what transpired during the Witch Hunts."

"He was a good father, and I loved him," my father tells me. "He always wanted the best for me, and made time to spend with me. But as a ruler, he was…passive."

And now I know where my father got _that_ trait from. It was probably how he had survived my mother's reign, because she simply did not see him as a threat to her. But…it was also how he allowed me to get so far away from him once she was defeated, when he knew that I would be a witch someday. He knew that I was cold and growing even more so, but when I did not respond to the efforts he attempted to make when he finally tried, he…gave up, or at least he stopped taking active action when he should have been increasing his efforts. And he did so knowing that I might turn into a corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer that might rule his kingdom under darkness once more.

His inaction could have led to even more tragedy; he would have repeated his own father's mistake, leading to nearly the very same result—a corrupted witch queen, ruling Angielle.

"So, he just allowed things to happen, knowing that it was wrong to do so?" I ask.

"It was more complicated than that," he says. "He thought that there might be _some_ truth to the tales. Even stories have to come from somewhere, and the fairies were not helping the witches in any way he could find. He assumed that they would have, if they thought that the witches deserved to be helped."

"The fairies were afraid, too," I answer. "They were afraid that the humans would turn on _everyone_ with magic, and not just the witches, if they helped. They were cowardly…and they eventually had to pay the price of that by fighting in the Great War when so many of their former friends became corrupted because they had not been given sanctuary, or aid. It did not help that their Bearer did not provide directives telling them to be more proactive about the situation. Parfait had though that the tales were benign, that her fairies should know what to do without her having to tell them to do it, and that my mother was wise enough to find the solution. But, she was both wrong and passive…which sounds a lot like your father come to think of it." _Which also sounds like you._

"And…he was fearful as well," my father admits. "The fairytales were so popular, were accepted as truth, so that he was not sure that he would have the power to stop the Witch Hunts if he wanted to. So, he decided that he did not want to rather than have his weakness become apparent, and distanced himself from the witches as much as he could."

"A mistake for more than one reason," I deadpan. "Maeve had been with a division of guards that investigated crime, before she was dismissed when the Fairytales became popular. Do you have any idea how many criminals would have been put into jail long ago, how many crimes could have been prevented by that, had she not been dismissed? His actions, and lack of action, hurt humans as well. And to provide justice is the role of every monarch, even if it is not easy. Why else are we here, if not to provide justice and safety for our subjects? I know that sometimes, it is easier to say than to do, but that does not mean that one should not try something simply because it is difficult."

"You are right in that," my father admits. "And whatever he thought about the adult witches, he should not have allowed the massacre of their children. It was a dreadful mistake for a king to make, and I could have understood if your mother had cursed him for it, but she took…a different route."

"By accepting corruption and killing the reigning king, forcing you to marry her, ruling Angielle in darkness…and then to top that off, she forced you to produce her own heir," I note. There is no reason to mince words.

"I…do not even remember that night, how it happened," he tells me, looking down, "but…that may have been a small mercy." Yellow eyes come up from the desk to meet mine. "You must understand Lucette, that even though I was never willing, that I still consider you the only good thing your mother ever had any part in. It is why I named you 'Lucette,' which means 'light.' I hoped that you would be the little flicker of light even in my darkest times. There was never a time that I did not love you once I set eyes on you, even if I was unable to or simply bad at showing you how I felt. It was my mistake that I did not try harder to let you know, once the war was over. I have done very little but fail you as a father."

I am silent for a moment, unable to disagree with that statement. He has had a few successes as a father to me, but he is unable to remember them. When he has done something good for me in this cycle, such as allowing me to leave the palace to train at the Marchen, appointing Sir Willard to the investigation, or allowing me to marry Waltz, I had basically backed him into a corner first. I had given him no choice but to give me what I needed of him, so I cannot honestly praise him for doing so. But I can think of a potentially relevant question. "Just before I turned you from a statue before Runia started working on you," I slowly ask, "you said that you were a fool. Were you speaking of something in specific?"

My father sighs. "I…was speaking to the fact that I had been so suspicious of witches and trusting of Alcaster, and here he had run me through with a sword, and the witches were the ones saving me. After the things your mother had done, I had been suspicious of them all because she led them…but I no longer had that excuse, I realized. At that time, I recognized that Runia and Maeve owed me nothing, and that they were taking those actions because they served _you_ …and other witches might exhibit similar behavior and for the same reason. But now I know that they saved me _in spite_ of what my father had allowed to happen to them. Maeve was denied the chance to serve Angielle, which quite probably allowed more criminals to roam the streets…like those you caught at the warehouse. And Runia…." His voice cracks for a second. "I…can only imagine what it would be like to lose a pregnant daughter, both my child and grandchild at the same time. I do not even want to think about what it would be like to lose you."

"I am in no particular danger of death, whatever happens to the…" I take a deep breath, and stop, my hand on my belly. But my father senses what I meant to say anyway.

"Do you have a specific reason to worry for the baby?" he asks me gently.

I bite my lip, and nod. "He has a heart problem Runia found some time ago. She did some preliminary work in fixing it, but she says she might have to do more shortly before he is born. And I do not know if she will still be here when I need her again. If not…I will only be able to hold him a few hours before he dies."

My father nods slowly. "She is old…and the only Healer in Angielle," he says, and I nod again. It is not that I suspect that she might die before I need her again…after all, she is alive right now…but what if she does not agree to come with the rest of us? My son's only other hope would be the 'grace' the gods promised me for the successful completion of my task…and I have no idea what that 'grace' might be.

My father sighs. "Lucette, I wish you would tell me these things. I might not be able to do anything about them, but I would still like to know if you want me to be there with you when you are in pain to try to support you in any way that I can. I would like to know if you expect that I will always fail you, or if you will give me opportunity to try to do better."

"It's not that I do not want you there Father," I tell him. "I…guess that I got used to dealing with things myself. Waltz was always so gentle, so protective of me, I could not help but share my vulnerabilities with him. He wants to know where I am weak, so he can protect me. He also comforts me from the effects of things it is impossible to protect me from. It is just that it does not occur to me to let you protect me from anything, because I find myself taking action to protect _you_ rather than the other way around."

"Like when you hid Maeve in Sir Willard's pouch, and summoned the only Healer that could have saved me? Like how you were suspicious of Alcaster early on, and managed to put Sir Willard in a position where Alcaster would have opposition so a coup would be impossible?" he says, and I nod at that even while I tally a much longer list than he would suspect in my head of things I did in the previous cycles to try to save his life. I took up a blade and used it, I let my mother go free, I gave the greatest performance of my life in replicating her, I seduced one of my greatest enemies…. After all of that, I had taken the role of protecting my father, rather than allowing him to try to protect me.

And I realize that what he is saying is the truth…that I had come to expect only failure from him when it came to offering protection. I had seen him as helpless against the dangers, and once the dangers were allowed to manifest themselves, he really was helpless…and I am certain that he hated it each and every time. He probably hates being helpless as much as I do…and hates that I see him as powerless, a failure, or worse yet…both.

It had not really occurred to me that in most families, the parents protect the children especially when the children are young. It has never really occurred to me that as messed up as my relationship with my mother, who was and is actively trying to corrupt me, ever was that my relationship with my father was never anywhere near 'normal' either. It was really no wonder that I had turned into what I did, before Delora cursed me for the first time. I still made my own choices and was responsible for the things that I had and had not done, but both of my parents had heavily influenced what I thought my 'reasonable' choices were.

But Waltz had stepped in. My father might have squandered the chance he had to become the father he had wanted to be to me once my mother was gone, but without Waltz, he would never have had that chance in the first place. Without Waltz, my father would not have the choice he is being presented with now. And I have to wonder…did my husband deliberately give my father this choice simply so he would have to sort out exactly what his priorities were? Did Waltz volunteer to risk his life to save Ophelia and Emelaigne so Father would have to decide if he would prioritize me and his duty as king, or the woman he had always loved and her daughter?

Somehow…I doubt it. Or at least, this is not something Waltz would do of his own initiative. I could see Decimond telling him to do this, or perhaps even Tuttle…but not Sir Willard. Either way, my father is being forced to decide if he will continue to be passive or not. He is being forced to decide exactly how much he loves me, and if he will perform as a king or simply let events carry him along in his life.

My father sighs after a moment. "I have been a terrible father to you Lucette, and I am sorry for it," he says softly, and my eyes raise up to look at him again. "And it is high time I start protecting you, and to serve both you and Angielle…there is only one choice I can make. Concerning your husband, my wife, and Emelaigne…it is not merely about who can and who cannot be risked. It is also about what is best for Angielle…that is the burden of the monarch. We can, and often do, make personal sacrifices for our nation. Perhaps I made a mistake in my youth, marrying your mother to save Ophelia…perhaps I should have refused her and suffered the consequences…perhaps the Great War would have never happened. Perhaps if I had begged her to spare my father's life and promised justice for the witches that had not done harm when I became king on the condition my father lived, that the Witch Hunt would stop…perhaps she would have accepted that. I am sure there was some curse that would have left Father alive, but unable to rule so I would have to take the throne immediately, and she might not have embraced corruption."

"Perhaps," I admit, both hoping for and dreading what I think he is actually getting at. But what _would_ Angielle look like today, had my father made that offer and my mother taken him up on it? I can only imagine that she was desperate when she decided to accept corruption and murder the king to take control of Angielle. She must had tried everything else she could think of if she had tried to appeal to the priesthood that had kicked the witches out centuries before. She might have agreed not to kill the king in exchange for the end of the Witch Hunts. If that had happened, I would not be here today, nor would Emelaigne or Rod. Ophelia would have married my father years ago, and bore his children instead of those of another man. But there would be so many other people still alive. Parfait would not have needed to fight her friend. The Crystallum would not have cracked while being forced to fight each other.

"But you are not simply the heir to the throne," my father tells me. "You are the Tenebrarum Bearer as well…and Angielle cannot risk suffering under another corrupt Tenebrarum Bearer as queen any more than I can risk failing you yet again, and when you need my aid the most. While if both Ophelia and Emelaigne died, it would injury you, but I think the death of your husband would put you at even greater risk…especially if there is a chance you could also lose the baby. You will never need Waltz more than if your child _is_ lost. I will tell Sir Willard that he is to risk your husband's life under no circumstances, and to treat it as he would treat yours or mine."

Tears well in my eyes, and I cannot help but start to weep again after so recently drying my face of them. My father comes from around his desk to take the chair next to me, and this time he holds me as I cry while I use the unbidden power for another needless shield. Both Ophelia and Emelaigne might die for me…for Angielle, really, but also for me. And this is after the exorbitant price my father and all of Angielle had paid to keep Ophelia alive. I know that this will be temporary…but my father makes his decision with no knowledge of this. He believes that he will have to live with the consequences of his choice to put my husband's life above those of his own wife and stepdaughter.

I have no idea how I can even start to repay my father for doing this for me. And I note that my father's eyes are not dry either as he holds me in his arms. We weep together once more, and it is not so different as that night we spent in the dungeon together just before he died.

Sometimes I wonder if my son is as familiar with the sound of my weeping as he is the sound of my voice, but it is my tears that will grant him life and pave the way to end this all. So, I weep. And perhaps…perhaps I really can name my son after my father like Waltz suggested.

My husband always sees the best in people, always tells me that even though my father made mistakes, that he still loved me…and I have to wonder if Waltz saw this.

There is nothing greater my father could have laid down for my sake.

…..


	51. A Return

**Chapter 51. A Return**

We are just finishing with court less than a week later, and I get up from Ophelia's throne to help my father off of his when I feel a magical spell of strength coming from the direction of my father's parlor. "I think Waltz might be back," I whisper to him as I hand him his cane. My husband would only come himself to deliver news of greatest import. I can only assume that either Ophelia or Emelaigne…perhaps both…have either died, or have been recovered. Either way…knowing has to be better than waiting in worry, in ignorance.

My father nods, takes the cane and my arm until he gets off the steps of his dais. Once he reaches the bottom, Rod gets up from his chair and we switch places so Father is leaning on him instead of me. The three of us walk down the central istle and out of the throne room as the herald cries, "Long live the king! Long live the queen! Long live their royal highnesses! Long live Angielle! Angielle!" which the crowd echoes as they bow or curtsey when we pass as we leave the throne room.

 _May we all live long, indeed. Please let Waltz carry good news…or better yet…._

We are halfway to the parlor when a maid comes running down the hallway toward us, and curtsies before us. "Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, Prince Waltz arrived and awaits you in the royal parlor. Her Majesty is with him, and she appears uninjured."

"And my sister?" Rod asks, anxiously.

The maid shakes her head. "I did not see her, Your Highness, but they said nothing concerning her."

"And their expressions?" I ask.

"Grim, Your Highness," the maid replies. "They refused any offer of refreshment while they await your presence."

"Not good news then on Emelaigne's part, then," I mutter, and Rod's hands ball into fists. "If there is nothing else," I tell the maid, "you are dismissed."

The maid curtseys deeply, and then she hurries to whatever other assignment she has. My father's slow pace quickens in anticipation of seeing his wife, and finding the fate…if known…of his stepdaughter. When I look over at Rod, who still walks stiffly even as my father leans on him, I can tell that he is torn between the desire to leave helping my father to me so he can race to the parlor, and the dread that slows his footsteps. If their expressions are grim, the best we can expect is that Emelaigne is still a prisoner. If she had been too wounded to move but in a safe place, Waltz would have found me immediately so I could summon the Witch Doctor to serve me once more.

When we finally get to the parlor and open the door, Ophelia sits on the couch in what I am sure is the very same dress she was kidnapped in, although it looks as if it has been laundered and mended. Waltz sits on the couch with her, an arm around her as he speaks quietly to her. When they hear the door slam as it shuts behind us, they both startle and look up at us.

"Ophelia," my father whispers, and Waltz moves to allow my father his place on the couch.

"Genaro," Ophelia whispers as they embrace. "I was so happy when I heard that you had survived."

"Lucette summoned the help I needed," my father tells her. "I would not have survived, otherwise, without the witches that serve her."

When they let go, Ophelia opens her arms again to envelope her son, looking as if she is going to cry, and then she hugs me as well. "What happened?" I ask her.

"Where is Emelaigne?" Rod wants to know. "Is she…safe?"

I am sure that Rod only notices his mother's eyes drop to the floor at the question, but I look up into my husband's eyes. He gives me an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and I know before Ophelia starts talking that something horrible has happened. And the dread sends a current through me, that I immediately direct into a shield that I place at the door.

"When we were taken," Ophelia starts to explain, "Alcaster explained that we were going to help him overthrow you, Lucette, and he told us that you had killed your father. I did not believe him, and told Emelaigne not to either. She said that of course she didn't believe it, but that we should play along as if we did, and look for any opportunity to get away. A few days later, as we were traveling, he received word that you had survived the assassination attempt, Genaro, and that Lucette had not seized the throne. He knew that I had overheard the report, he had ensured we overheard it because he was expecting different news, but he said that this did not change his plans much.

"Emelaigne tried to escape twice, and when they caught her the second time, she made it…obvious that she was a prisoner, and not what Alcaster considered the 'rightful queen.' Some of his men began to doubt, and Alcaster had to admit that they were all committing treason, but said that everyone with red was doomed to his own fate, for good or ill. Someone was able to get notices of Lucette's offer of pardon and more in exchange for either Emelaigne or myself inside the camp. This made Alcaster uneasy, and in need of better footing.

"They made for Fort Summerfell, and the plan was to have me convince the commanding officer that Lucette really had murdered the king and taken the throne, that Alcaster had gotten me out to protect me, so Alcaster and his men would be let into the fort and they could take it over and start at a position of strength for whatever they were planning next. Alcaster promised me that if I refused to do as he said, or even if I tried and failed in doing so, that Emelaigne would be killed.

"I was sent into the fort with a small guard, and I requested to see the commanding officer. While I was in the courtyard, I saw…I saw an old friend of mine who was visiting one of her sons." Ophelia has to stop a moment, before she can will herself to speak again. "He had joined the military only last year, and then I realized that if I did as Alcaster wanted, that the lives of all the men…including that boy…would be forfeit. Either Alcaster would kill them as he took the fort for himself, or if they joined Alcaster they would all eventually be killed as traitors to the Crown. How many other mothers would I rob in exchange for my own daughter?"

And now, Ophelia breaks down into sobs. I almost do not notice as my husband comes around to where I stand to put his arms around me. "And I couldn't do it! I just couldn't do it in spite of what Alcaster threatened to do to Emelaigne…what he might do to her anyway! Emelaigne had been certain that he would kill her eventually if she did not manage to get away first, and had told me not to let them use me as a tool against Angielle whatever that required; that I should act as queen," she says as she cries into an already wet handkerchief. "I told the commander, who had already received word that Alcaster was a traitor and was holding me and Emelaigne captive, that my 'guards' were indeed holding me hostage as soon as we were alone. He then put Alcaster's men into the prison. And Waltz appeared later that evening, to carry messages, and he took me back to camp with him where…."

Ophelia appears to be unable to go on, and Waltz starts speaking from behind me, his arms encircling me. "I brought her directly to Sir Willard, and we told him of the situation. We were all sure that Emelaigne would be killed by morning if she was not rescued immediately. Sir Willard was just briefing volunteers that were to attempt to get into Alcaster's camp through stealth with information Ophelia provided, so they could find Emelaigne while Maeve was going to create a distraction, but then we heard an uproar coming from Alcaster's camp.

"There were a significant portion of Alcaster's troops fighting each other, with the smaller group trying to get away. Sir Willard got his troops into position, and did what he could to protect the fleeing Redarms, hoping that they had tried to carry out a rescue of their own. They had…" but my husband's voice cracks, and he has to stop a moment before continuing. "But they had been peppered with arrows as they ran. One had hit Emelaigne's chest. She was dead before Maeve or I could reach her."

I gasp, my own hands coming up to my mouth in horror, and I feel my husband's arms growing tighter around me. The mental image of…of…. I turn around to cry into his shirt as he holds me, and the currant making the shield grows so strong, I doubt that even _I_ could penetrate it. The only thing that keeps me from breaking down completely, from my magic being wild like that first night of this cycle, is the fact that I know that my sister's death is temporary. In perhaps a few weeks, I shall see her smiling face again as she burst into the dining room yet again talking about her fairytale books. But that does not mean the what she experienced was fake…she felt her death even if she will not remember it.

And, suddenly, the shield disappears completely. I am so shocked that I nearly stop weeping. I pause, and see that I can still call my normal magic, and the magic the Tenebrarum usually supplies for me when I call on it, but…. In my mind's eye, the Tenebrarum is now flawless, completely repaired.

It will now protect my son once more.

And it also strikes me that the pain I experience will be useless, except as filling up the measurement line on my dagger. I do not need to make myself suffer any more than I might already for the rest of this cycle. It is a small relief, to know that I have a respite from staring at the Tenebrarum through tear filled eyes.

I dry my eyes, holding onto the thought that this will never happen if I do things correctly, and turn back around to look at my family. Ophelia is still crying as both my father and Rod hold her. Rod is tense, even with tears running down his face, and I know that only the fact that his mother needs him to be right where he is, is keeping him there. When Ophelia finally quiets down, I softly ask, "So, what orders concerning this shall be given? I presume Sir Willard should be commanded to take nor give any quarter?" That would be a death sentence to every guard and knight remaining under Alcaster's leadership. The man that killed my sister would lose his own life, no matter who he had been. The soldiers that had stood against my sister's would-be rescuers would also die. Alcaster himself would die.

And he knows what will happen to him, even as he resists it. Alcaster may not know if Emelaigne survived her rescue or not, but he knows that he has no bargaining chips left; he has no way of convincing my father not to have him and every man with him killed. And the men with him have no excuse of ignorance, now. Word of my offer _had_ gotten to them, and some of them had decided that if it was certain that Emelaigne would have been killed in the morning if or when Ophelia did not return, that their only time to act was immediately. But tragedy had struck anyway, and the princess they tried to rescue died on the way out. But the soldiers that had turned on Alcaster would be allowed their lives, allowed pardon, if not everything I had offered for my sister's safe return.

"So be it," my father says in a voice that sound like gravel, sentencing men and women that he had once believed faithful in his service to death. If any are left alive after the battle, they will be systematically executed before Sir Willard's men leave the field. They are all held responsible as participants in Alcaster's deeds, and even in written civilian law, the sentence for being even an accessory to the murder of a princess is life in prison or death depending on the level of involvement. In a military court, where the defendant was a soldier under the crown and sworn to protect the royal family and Angielle, the sentence would automatically be death.

Waltz nods, and brings him a lap desk. "I will be rested enough to travel again in several hours' time. You may write the orders at your leisure, or I can send for a clerk to help you."

The restless energy granted by grief finally becomes too much for my brother, who finally gets up from beside his mother to pace outside on the large balcony instead. Once again, as in the night of my attempted assassination, he can do nothing. Ophelia looks so forlorn at this, that I move to sit beside her opposite Father, taking Rod's place at her side. She lets go of Father to allow him to turn his attention to the necessary orders, and takes my own tearstained face in her hands. For a moment, she only looks at me.

"The last time I spoke with my daughter," she starts slowly, "she said not to worry about her. She said that she was going to be as brave as you, no matter what came. She always wanted your friendship, and was overjoyed when you granted it, but…in these last few months, I'm not sure that you ever knew how much she came to admire you."

I am in real danger of tears once more. "Me?" I ask, softly. "You mean about dealing with the warehouse? I only did what I had to."

She smiles at me. "When you decide that you have a duty, you boldly do it, controlling whatever fear you legitimately have. You let nothing stop you, and she admired that. You see patterns where others see chaos, you know when something is not right even if you are not entirely certain what it is, but are still able to take steps to prevent the worst from occurring. We were both certain that you were the reason your father survived his assassination attempt, even before Alcaster let slip about a witch interrupting. She wished she had your intelligence and foresight."

And now I feel guilty. The foresight is from experiencing the same months over and over again, and at least some of the 'courage' is due to the fact that I know results are unlikely to be permanent. "I never knew how she could be so open with everyone," I admit. "There had to have been people who used that to their advantage at her expense, but to do it again and again…."

She smiles at me. "Yes, she was hurt at times, but never as much as you were. No one I have ever heard of was a cruel as your own mother, and Emelaigne never had to live in the shadow that woman cast. Under your circumstances, she did not blame you for how you behaved toward her at first, before you…changed. She thought that she could help you, which is why she wanted to be your friend so badly. Emelaigne did not know about Waltz, and assumed that you had never had a friend before, so you did not how to make or be a friend."

And there is a large lump in my throat, and the baby stirs and gives me a particularly vigorous kick before I can answer her. "And I am sorry that I was not more…responsive sooner." I shake my head. "I've wished that you had been my mother, sometimes, before I remind myself that the past is past and wishing will not change it."

"I still can be, if you allow it," Ophelia tells me.

"You know why I couldn't call you 'Mother' even these last few months?" I ask her. "There was simply too much pain associated with that title for me to grant it to anyone I liked. But now…would you care greatly if I called you 'Mum' instead?" It is a more informal address, and the only time I had ever tried using it with my own mother, I had been severely scolded. 'Mum' is a title I do not associate with my own mother, so there is no pain in it.

"I would not mind at all," she tells me, drawing me into a hug. We are so close together, that she feels it when the baby gives me another hard jab. She releases the hug, only to place her hand on my belly where my son is still kicking. "And thank you, little one," she tells him, "for reminding me that there is still life. I can hardly wait to hold you, myself. I lose…and I gain."

And I know that that has been the pattern of her life. She lost my father to a witch, she gained her first husband and two children. She lost her husband, she gained my father and I…and eventually Waltz as well. She lost her daughter, and she is comforted by the thought of holding her first grandchild…even when she believes that she will now receive none from her firstborn.

I am guessing that this is the thought that occurs to her as she bursts into tears yet again, and I hold her while she weeps. And I hate it that I cannot tell her the truth now. In her current state, she might not be able to properly comprehend it even if I told her. Instead, I hold her in my arms, lay her down on the couch when she appears exhausted, and fetch her a pillow and blanket. In spite of her exhaustion she resists sleep like a fitful child, certain that only nightmares await her. So, I sit beside her and stroke her hair, and perhaps for the first time I tell my stepmother that I love her. When I do so, her expression finally relaxes, and I do not quite catch what she mumbles as she drifts off into sleep.

When I look up, finally certain that she is now asleep, I turn my head and find that my father and my husband are speaking quietly now occupying the card table, and Clerk Tuttle sits with them, pulling out forms from his briefcase. I can only assume that there is some paperwork involved in the legal aspects of slaughtering traitors without trials if they do manage to survive whatever battle will be planned. The only proof Sir Willard will need to slay will be that the former knights and guards wear a red sleeve.

I look around the room, looking for my brother, but do not see him at first. Finally, I spot the back of Rod's head through the window. Apparently, he has spent all this time outside on the balcony. I get up and go through the door to find that Rod has stopped pacing, and is now sitting perfectly still on the bench, just staring at the floor. I join him on the bench, but remain silent.

"So," he asks after a few minutes, sounding a little surly. "What are you going to try to tell me? That I should go back in because my mother needs me?"

"She's sleeping," I say. "She's probably more comfortable in dreams than the nightmare of a reality she must wake to, eventually."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Surely you are not suggesting that I am capable of helping in any way. You made the suggestion I would have, the king will write the orders, and your husband will carry them to ensure they arrive as quickly as possible. I am useless."

"And you hate it," I nod. "You hate feeling helpless, so you weep and rage on the balcony…alone where you think your powerlessness will be less obvious to others. I am half surprised that the flowerpots out here are not broken."

"I tried to kick one…and then I remembered that Emelaigne likes these flowers," he says softly, rubbing his eyes as if to hold back more tears. "I couldn't destroy anything she likes…liked."

"She was really your only friend when no one else tried to, or was able to, understand you," I note. "You've always hated being a child, even when you were one, and she was your sunlight that reminded you that better days could come. You haven't just lost a sister…you have lost the sun itself."

" _I_ was supposed to be the one that died," he says angrily. "That curse should have killed me…would have killed me."

"And my lifting it would have had no bearing on whether Emelaigne lived or died," I tell him.

"But if I had never asked that witch to make me a prince in the first place, my sister would have never been kidnaped," my brother notes miserably. "Alcaster would never have bothered with an ordinary girl…the daughter of a baker is much less valuable than a daughter of a king."

"Not to the baker," I sigh. He cannot blame himself for this. "The consequences of actions are so varied, so numerous, that it is illogical to feel guilty for the ones we had no way of foreseeing. It was just as likely that by becoming a princess, Emelaigne would have married a handsome prince…or even a knight…and lived happily ever after."

Rod frowns. "A knight?"

I sigh. "I…suppose that it does not matter now. She was in love with Fritz."

His eyebrows raise. "I thought that maybe she was…actually, I had always wondered if Fritz had been interested in you."

"He was," I admit, and Rod gives me a surprised look. "He never admitted it to me, but I knew. If I hadn't found Waltz again when I did, it's not impossible that I would have married him instead. I cared for both of them…but I cared for them in different ways."

"Did Emelaigne know that Fritz did not return her feelings?" he asks, frowning.

"I…don't believe so," I tell my brother. "I never told her. Fritz was only at the Marchen for a few weeks before I sent him on a mission, and she only saw him briefly during the time he was there. I think she was spared the pain of realizing that unrequited affection, at least. I do not know if Fritz would have grown to love her in time; I am fairly certain that he liked her, at least."

"The same as everyone else," Rod admits. "Very few people did not like her. She always got on better with other people that I did."

I smile. "She had that in common with Waltz, drawing energy from pleasing others. People would just like them for who they were, and they were never viewed as threatening…which is somewhat ironic considering my husband is the second-most powerful witch in Angielle."

" _Both_ of you are dangerous when you have a mind to be," Rod tells me. "You just…carry your weapon in the open, while he has his tucked in his sleeve just in case he needs it."

I chuckle at that. "You _do_ realize that I actually have a more…conventional…weapon up my sleeve as well?" If a weapon provided by a god can be considered 'conventional.' "I keep wondering if one of you will realize that I have it, now that I am more comfortable with hugs and allow more people than my husband to touch me."

Rod shakes his head. "So _that's_ what that was. I thought that there was something hard on your arm, when you were handing your father over to me when we walked out of the throne room today. With your magical abilities, why a knife?"

"You always need a backup plan," I tell my brother. "You always have more than one layer of defense, and of offense…and be prepared to use them."

Rod sighs. "I can't even use a dagger well, never mind a sword."

"Intelligence can be a weapon as well," I remind him. "Granted, you are forgetful at times, but that is something you can work to improve. Other weapons are useless unless you can identify friend from foe. I do not deny that I have had some trouble with that in the past."

"I'll say you did," my brother admits. "You use to give no consideration for anyone else."

"And viewed everyone as potential enemies…or at least, potential sources of pain," I admit. "I thought other people would either try to take something from me, or use me to their own ends. My mother had reinforced this by taking away anyone I saw as exemptions to this rule." I sigh. "I told Oph…Mum that I sometimes wish that she _had_ been my mother instead. But on the other hand, I don't think that I would have ever met Waltz had that been the case."

Rod gives me a surprised look. "You call Mother 'Mum' now?"

"If you cannot guess why I can never call her 'Mother,'" I say dryly, "you understand nothing about me."

Rod slowly nods. "That word, that means safety for everyone else, drips of betrayal and pain to you."

"Which is why you can call her 'Mother' and I never will," I tell him. "She is in no way similar to my own mother, and I am grateful for it."

Rod is silent for a moment. "I…noticed you with her after I left. I just couldn't sit still anymore despite that…." He shakes his head. "Thank you."

I nod. "You could not sit still anymore. The world spins around you, but you cannot control the currents. You made yourself a prince in an attempt to give you the girl you wanted…that she would desire you…but she was so caught up in someone else by that time that you soon discovered that it was hopeless—that you were helpless. You believed that being a prince would grant you some amount of influence, if only in controlling your own life, and every time something terrible happens that you cannot even mitigate this reinforces that you were always wrong. The one step you took to try to control your life ensured only that you could influence nothing, and even stronger currents pulled you with them instead. And you hate it.

"You could sit still no longer because motion gives you the illusion of purpose, even when you have none," I finish.

Rod crosses his arms and leans back into the bench. "And why do you understand me even better than Emelaigne did?"

"We are not that different in some ways," I answer him. "And I like to think that I understand myself fairly well."

"Except in that while I have no influence," he tells me, "men live or die at yours."

"I cannot deny that," I tell my brother, "but would you wish the responsibilities that come with it? You know that you have rarely considered the world outside your own family, as if little matters except them. To have influence or power of any kind means that you must give careful consideration to strangers you are likely to never meet."

He looks at me and shakes his head. "And this is coming from someone that gave consideration to only herself half a year ago."

I shrug. "People change."

"Well, _you_ certainly did," he admits, shaking his head. "And I cannot remember talking to Emelaigne about anything as philosophical as this." He pauses for a moment. "You know that you are never going to take her place," he warns me.

"I wouldn't dream of trying to do so," I tell him. "She deserves her own place, and for her own absence to be felt. And I deserve my own place as well. I may not be a ray of sunlight, but if you ever need someone to watch your back I doubt you could do better."

Rod nods slowly. "She told me things would be better and offered me hope…you are a bulwark against the worst of the storm that offers protection. Things would have been so much worse had your father died, or even if you had not spent time setting up Sir Willard up in a position to oppose Alcaster. That traitor might have succeeded in trying to start a civil war."

"I am grateful that I was able to save Father, for more than one reason. And I think we have been a family long enough that you should really start calling him 'Father' or the equivalent of your choice rather than referring to him as _my_ father," I reply as I get up from the bench. "I think I'll go back inside now, unless there is anything else that needs to be said."

"You are not going to try to get me to go inside with you?" Rod asks, surprised.

"I don't know why I should bother," I tell him as I turn toward the door. "You will come inside when you get hungry or thirsty, have a need for the privy, or decide that the bench is too uncomfortable to sleep on. All I meant to do was let you know that her death did not leave you without a sister, or without a friend."

He nods, knowing that I am correct that only practicalities rather than emotional appeals will be what brings him inside. He does not want to face his own helplessness in this situation, and I do not intend to attempt to make him. And even though he does not tell me, I know that he appreciates it.

I pause for a moment, thinking that there is one more thing he ought to know. "I should tell you, though, that you are not without effect. You did end up talking to Waltz, months ago, and you made him realize that he was in love with me, and that I needed to know it?"

My brother looks back up at me, and nods.

"The day that Waltz told me that he was in love with me was also the day that corruption tried to present itself to me while I was working on the Tenebrarum," I say, and Rod pales. "I do not know if I would have fallen had you not done so, but knowing that my husband was with me…that he loved me…made it a lot easier for me to turn my back on it. Thank you."

Rod does not respond for a moment, but when he speaks, he sounds as if his mouth is dry. "That…that would have been…." He takes a deep, unsteady breath. " _Everyone_ would have suffered."

"I think 'a catastrophe' was the phrase you were looking for," I answer with a smile. "And you helped prevent that from happening, even if you, Waltz, and I are the only ones that know. Never doubt your own worth. Even when your own deeds are not sung or even visible to the public, that does not mean that you have had no effect on the lives of others."

"I didn't really think that I might actually be saving the kingdom," Rod admits, wide-eyed. "I…I was just trying to help you in the only way I knew how."

I smile at my brother. "Sometimes," I tell him, "all it takes to save the kingdom is the right person trying to help in the right way."

Even in the dusk, there is still light enough that I see that my brother's cheeks are pink as I walk through the doors back into the parlor.

Once I go back inside, Waltz meets me and takes me into my father's small, informal study and closes the door behind us. I am expecting kisses, or maybe an invitation for something more before he has to leave me again, but what he says is, "Lucette, you need to come with me."

"To what will be the final battle to exterminate Alcaster," I say, knowing that the time of this cycle is nearly up unless I can whip another enemy out of thin air. _Fritz please…don't fail me now!_

He nods. "What is the status of the Tenebrarum right now?"

"There are no more flaws," I report. "It will survive breaking again."

"And if it was stronger? If it could take the same damage but not be as affected?" he asks. If the Tenebrarum was stronger, it might not be damaged as badly when the cycle resets soon. I would not have to work as hard to repair it. "There is no better place to feed it, no better place to strengthen it, than at a battlefield."

I nod slowly. At any battle, there would be fear, pain, anger…everything my Crystallum likes to feed from. This one might be even worse in the psychological pain factor…the men fighting to the death will know one another. It is much harder to kill someone who's face you know than a stranger. "I have never tried moving it," I admit. "I'll go get Parfait, and see if she can help me figure it out before morning."

Waltz nods. "Your father will not mind if we wait until morning to leave." He pauses for a moment, his hand coming up to brush my cheek. "Since I'm not sure how long it will take for you to learn how to move the Tenebrarum, and we are unlikely to have as much privacy at camp…. Well, it has been two weeks since I have been alone with you. I mean, if you don't feel like it after hearing the news about your sister, I understand, but maybe you need a little comforting as well…."

My husband does not have to say another word. I put a chair under the door handle to keep anyone else from entering, and clear my father's papers to one side of the desk as I put up a sound barrier in the room. "I think we have time," I tell him, "and I do need a little comforting, myself."

Maybe it will help ease the prickles of pain in my own heart on this night, remind me that there is still life. At the very least, I will be distracted from them for a time. And as much as I know Waltz is fond of Emelaigne, I am sure that this is not an easy night for him, either. He needs my warmth tonight, just as I have needed his so often. Although he also knows that her death can be prevented in the next cycle, tonight is still painful. There is no reason we cannot find a little comfort in each other right now.

…..


	52. In Camp

**Chapter 52. In Camp**

Father is not excited that I plan to go back with Waltz, but I tell him that I have every intention of staying well behind battle lines…and that feeding the Tenebrarum a battle would strengthen it. He accepts the explanation that even though it is stable right now, if whatever broke it in the first place reoccurs, that I would have to do less work to fix it again if it were stronger. He gives me his leave to go, and tells me that I may feel free to represent the Crown while I am there. This basically means that I may override Sir Willard if I wish, but I know that he is far more competent than I in military matters. In all of my cycles, I have yet to even see a real battle. At best, there have been skirmishes until now. Reading lessons on largescale battlefield tactics might give one a basic understanding of what is going on, but I do not imagine myself a competent commander in any way. But if I need to…I could delay things.

I hope it is not necessary, both because I hope to hear from Veles before the final battle and because I would hate to override Sir Willard when I cannot explain the why of it to him.

I go to the Marchen to fetch Parfait, explain the situation, and we work for several hours until I can move and call the Tenebrarum to where I wish…including through portals. It is good that I have it fixed now, because otherwise moving it in such a fashion would exacerbate existing cracks.

"Still no word from Veles?" she asks me, and I shake my head.

"For the life of me, I do not know what that fairy is waiting for," I admit. I sigh, thinking. "Does he have any reason to be upset with me about anything, or Angielle for that matter? The consequences of his refusal to help would be dire to both me and my nation."

"Not you in particular, or Angielle itself that I am aware of," Parfait answers. "But in Cedel, witches and fairies serve the populace in very different ways. The fairies spend their time among common folk, while witches support the government…which does not allow the masses as much freedom as they enjoy elsewhere. There is order, but there is relatively little room for movement or growth. That is how balance is obtained in Cedel; there are burdens but there is peace.

"I have never met the man personally, but I have heard that he greatly wishes the burden born by the common folk was lesser than it is. He sees the witches as uncaring concerning their plight," the fairy continues. "He is also stubborn, and it might take a lot to make him adjust his views, for him to decide that maybe you are different from the nobles he is use to and deserve his help."

"It's a pity he is not here," I sigh. "My current reputation is of a witch that brings justice, and rescues the innocent. It's…probably the best reputation I've managed yet."

"Don't forget saving your father when you could have seized the throne for yourself," Waltz speaks up from his seat on the chair, and Parfait nods.

"The entire palace knew that it was a witch that healed him," Parfait says. "The rumors in inns and taverns say that you summoned your servant to do so."

"I wonder what Runia thinks of that," I muse, then I shake my head. "None of it matters if Veles doesn't know."

Parfait is silent for a moment. "If Fritz had trouble convincing him, would he try to bring Veles here to let you convince him?"

"It would not surprise me," I say slowly. "It is something we should plan for." I look up at Parfait. "Is there a spell you can use to find me to bring them to me? Alcaster will be dead soon, the cycle ended, and Fritz would bring Veles to the Marchen first to find out how things stand if they did come to Angielle."

She nods. "If you consent to being found by me, there is a spell that would work for that purpose."

"Do it," I say, and then I feel soft fairy magic warm me as something settles around me.

With that done, Waltz and I go to bed for what is left of the night. It is only my husband's presence that allows me the peace I need to sleep at all.

The end of this cycle is close enough to touch, and things are not prepared. Instead of months or even weeks, I know that I have only days.

…..

The next morning after breakfast Jurien, who will not allow me to go anywhere without her, my husband, and I set out. I can make portals to places I have never been, after careful consideration of the maps Waltz carries, and we basically take turns making portals and resting between them. We keep to the countryside, and do not see anyone until the second to last portal. I sit on a rock on top of the hill very near our destination, resting while Waltz digs food out of a bag for our lunch. While I eat a small savory pie, I look down at what lies beneath us.

Using magic to enhance my vision, I see the sea with a harbor full of ships, both merchant and fishing. The ships seem to be coming and going without any mind to what is going on inland. This is the only port capable of taking large ships for some distance, and the merchants must refresh their supplies and water stores somewhere. Other than foodstuffs mainly consisting of dried fish and farm goods obtained from further away, there is very little trading done here. The fort sits on a comparatively small isthmus of land between the port town and mainland, with little enough room for Alcaster to get by it to get to the town without serious consequences from Fort Summerfell's arrows. He might lose near half of his men if he wanted to resupply from the town's food stores. While the fort had been intended to protect the town from seafaring raiders, it is still performing its task. For further protection, there appears to be a construction of some sort on the isthmus that completely blocks access to the town from the mainland.

"What is that on the strip of land by the fort?" I ask.

"A barrier Maeve is responsible for," Waltz tells me. "I left her in the fort, before I left with Mother, to help with their defenses. She had said she was going to put something up that would not burn, and could not be climbed by horse or man. I do not know if Alcaster realizes it or not, but the town is perfectly safe from him."

Alcaster has been denied the ships of the harbor, and the food stores of the town. I am unsure of the stores he was able to carry, but time will work against him.

The forces that my husband tells me are Alcaster's are camped between a mountainous area with cliffs and the fort on one side, and a larger force that belongs to Sir Willard. He appears to be trapped, but when I enhance my vision even further I see Alcaster's men busy around the camp as they create a parameter of some sort.

"Stakes probably," Jurien answers when I ask what they might be constructing, even though she is unable to see them. "They will hold off horses, and thus mounted knights. But he has nowhere to go apparently."

"But it looks like Sir Willard could just starve them out," I say, looking at the situation. "Or wait until they are too weak to fight to attack." Those men might even start eating their horses, if they get hungry enough. It would keep them alive at the expense of reducing their fighting prowess…and it takes a very hungry knight indeed to eat his own horse.

"They knew some of the men down there," my husband admits. "I think they prefer to give them faster deaths than that."

"Couldn't they just pepper them with arrows?" I ask. "Stakes will not stop arrows."

"Both sides have archers as most knights are at least familiar with a crossbow," Waltz admits, "but we have more than Alcaster does. Most of the reinforcements from local lords consist of longbowmen…hunters, really. They tend to be more accurate than crossbowmen especially over distance, though crossbow bolts will punch through armor better. If Alcaster charges from behind his defenses to kill the archers, the archers could be slaughtered."

"Unless protected by our own knights," Jurien states. "We could ride in with enough notice, and engage in close combat. That might actually give us the best chance for Alcaster to come out from behind his defenses."

Waltz nods. "The rest of the reinforcements are foot soldiers, laborers really. They are not well trained, but Sir Willard has been drilling them to stand side by side with shields up in ranks, with spears to poke out from behind the shields to deter any charging. I think he is planning on having them protect the archers should Alcaster decide to charge. There are kinsmen between the archers and foot soldiers, so Sir Willard thinks they will stand together if or when the need arises."

"We cannot simply charge them," I sigh. "In addition to the rows of stakes, I would not doubt that Alcaster has some trenches dug, or horse traps."

Waltz just shakes his head. "They are all dead men already…and I am certain Alcaster is intelligent enough to see that. I do not know why they just do not surrender. If nothing else, they will starve behind their own fortifications. No one really has to even fire an arrow at them."

"They think that they will all die anyway," I say. "They are not wrong in that. Alcaster knows that even if my father wanted to extend them mercy, I would talk him out of it. I would grant them their lives no more than I granted mercy to the men hanged in the warehouse matter. They would rather die as soldiers than be executed as prisoners. Their only real hope of getting out alive would be to destroy that barricade by the fort, though they would need their own witch to do so, and get to the ships. There is no way to warn the merchants to avoid here until after the battle, so there will be ships in the harbor no matter what. There are fishing boats they could use to escape elsewhere if nothing else. The thing is…I am not sure if Alcaster will settle for mere survival. Some of his officers might want to take their chances getting past the fort, but he would prefer death at the hand of a worthy foe."

"Why do you say that?" Waltz asks.

"It is what happened last time," I say. "I had proved myself stronger than him, and he was helpless before me and my allies. Father sentenced him to death, intending to carry out the sentence himself…but Alcaster asked me to kill him instead." I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. "It was not just that he did not respect my father and would consider it insulting to die at his hand, but he knew that I was the one that had beaten him. It may have been with my wiles instead of the sword, but I was the clear winner that day. I was worthy of his respect, and he decided to show the nobles of Angielle that I was worthy of their respect as well by offering his head to me."

My husband nods slowly. "He wanted to show them what they had to look forward to when you became queen. He wanted them to see you winning the day with your political skills, and that you also had the nerve to dispose of your enemies personally."

"He probably thought that it would make Angielle stronger if the nobility respected me," I admit. "And he was not wrong in that." I sigh. "Whatever his methods, there was a time he actually thought that what he was doing was best for Angielle. But Father is a passive ruler, and while this may not cause problems in a time of peace, it would in a time of war. He preferred being prepared for war, whether or not it ever came. I cannot fault his feeling, but his methods were where he went wrong."

"No nation even took an aggressive posture against Angielle while your mother ruled," Waltz admits. "He wanted you to provide the same…demotivation…against any doing so."

"Even good witches might be territorial," I say. "My corruption was never necessary for this to come about. But…he did not see that. If he had been smarter, he would have had father poisoned instead of attempting to have me corrupted. I would have been queen in short order."

"And with him not a danger to you, the cycle would have restarted," Waltz notes, and I smile at him.

"We should be happy that he is not as politically savvy as he could be," I say. "Even Father only listened to him on military matters." Unfortunately, he had listened to Myth on political matters. Though, I do have to admit that he had chosen Sir Decimond well.

"Is there any way to delay the battle without my directly overruling Sir Willard?" I ask quietly.

"One," Jurien says. "Rain. He will want to soften Alcaster's forces with archers before he attacks, with them dug into position so well. If the bow strings get wet, they will break; if there is rain, he will not fight."

I nod, remembering the storm I made that first night of this cycle. I could make it rain. I take a deep breath, and use my magic to sense the weather patterns…and it looks like there might be rain coming soon without any intervention needed anyway.

I can only count that as a good thing.

After we were done with lunch and rested, Waltz made one last portal to the edge of Sir Willard's encampment. When I go out through the light on my husband's arm, I find myself surrounded by knights that bow or kneel before me, as well as the conscripts sent by their lords who follow their example. One man, a blond knight I recognize as a friend of Fritz's, falls to his knees before me so fast I hear a thud in spite of the activity around me. His head is bowed as if he is afraid to look at me, and I notice that he is missing one of his sleeves.

So, this is one of the former 'Redarms' that had tried but failed to rescue my sister. Was his name Roy…Ron? It was something along those lines, I am certain. But I walk on, choosing not to call attention to the man, as we continue to the tent Sir Willard uses as a strategy room.

When we get there, I find that it is not so much a tent as it is a piece of canvas stretched between several trees, with a flat stone that serves as a table with maps weighted down on it. A knight serving as Sir Willard's aid assures me that he has been notified of my arrival, and is on his way here. In the meanwhile, I make myself comfortable in what I assume is one of the very few chairs in camp while Waltz sits on a large rock and Jurien lounges against a tree. There is a decent amount of tents, though I assume that at least some of the men are sleeping under their cloaks or under supply wagons instead, but it would greatly surprise me if there are more chairs.

It is not all that long before Sir Willard arrives, dismounts his horse, and hands the reigns to his aid before bowing to me. "Your Highness," he greets me. "I hope that your presence means that the king has recovered?"

And the other thing my presence might mean is that my father suddenly took a turn for the worse, and is dead. "He still needs to use a cane and someone to lean on as he walks, but he has recovered enough to resume his responsibilities," I tell him, and the elder knight's expression relaxes some.

"That is good news, Princess," Sir Willard tells me. "And it is always a pleasure, Prince Waltz. And…and Lady Jurien?"

Jurien smiles at him, but I answer the question. "I had both her and Sir Garlan reinstated once it became obvious that they stood vindicated, but she was the only one I could reach. She has been serving as my knight in Fritz's absence since."

"Of course, Your Highness," he says just a little slowly, as if wondering if there is a reason I made an effort to find her other than my own sense of justice. "I hope you will forgive my tardiness in attending you. I had been gone with some scouts to get a closer look at Alcaster's defenses myself, and was only just returning when I received word that you had entered the camp."

"You were doing your duty," I tell him. "I do not see it necessary for you to apologize for doing such."

"As you say, Your Highness," Sir Willard tells me with a small smile. "But protocol demands I offer you an explanation."

"And business demands that I offer you these," I say, taking the documents my father gave me to give to Sir Willard, who takes them and carefully peruses them.

"Your father has commanded no quarter to be taken or given, and that you are to be the Crown's representative while you remain with us." His eyes dart from the paper to me. "You have the power to override me, if you wish to, Your Highness."

"I have no intention of overruling your commands," I tell the man. At least, I dearly hope it will be unnecessary. "You are more experienced in this kind of warfare than I. This is not the political arena, after all."

The knight nods, and then frowns. "Just how much of this is your doing, Princess? I would think your father might have offered a little mercy…?"

"And he does not know which of those men fired the shot that killed his daughter, and under the circumstances it would be impossible to find out," I remind Sir Willard. "They had their chance for mercy, and fired upon the men that tried to earn the amnesty of the Crown when they could have joined them. But yes, I made the suggestion. Nothing else can be done for such treason, and violation of their oaths as knights. Even if they were to accept banishment, we can only expect that they would continue to prey upon the innocent. You cannot expect that they will take up plows instead of arms, and become farmers."

Sir Willard sighs. "In my head I know that, but in my heart I had hoped that it would not come to this, that some other way might be found. I…fought side by side with a few of the now traitors, long ago."

I nod. "This is why it is wiser to make decisions with one's head than one's heart. Hearts can be quite fickle." After all, I fell in love four times before finally choosing the right man; the man I both loved and needed. I doubt that I could bear the burdens that I must without Waltz at my side. "I will admit that it is best when one can get the two to agree."

He smiles wryly at me. "If you will permit a hypothetical comparison, Princess? What if you found yourself face to face with your mother, were she still alive? Would you have the strength to kill her, even knowing that she might destroy Angielle if left alive? Some of my men have siblings or cousins among the traitors."

I grimace, guessing that I might as well tell him the same thing I told my father. "That…is actually a choice I made already. I was able to destroy her once, so I would do it again."

Sir Willard blinks, shocked, and my father's missive drops from his hand to fall on the makeshift table with the maps. "You Highness? My apologies. I…I had no idea!"

"It is not a subject fit for conversation at dinner parties," I admit. "But Mother had taken refuge within the Tenebrarum itself at the end of the war. Sir Mythros, who I am sure you remember was her loyal apprentice in disguise, was assigned to convincing or forcing me to release her from it once I was able to use magic. He attempted this, but instead of cooperating or allowing myself to be corrupted, I cursed him and destroyed my mother before she could escape."

"I am so sorry, Princess," he says softly, then he takes a deep breath. "I normally would not ask this of you, but under the circumstances…. It might do the men's resolve good to know about this, if you would tell them before battle; and what strengthens a soldier's heart also strengthens his will and his arm."

And there is really no way I can refuse this request. And in a way, it is all true; I know that I will be dragging my mother to her demise during the next cycle anyway. I cannot imagine that the gods will have anything in store for her but whatever they deem as justice for her many crimes. "Very well," I answer him. "When are you planning on that happening? From what I understand at this time, the traitors are boxed in without much for resources."

Sir Willard nods grimly. "They are boxed in. They cannot swim the ocean, get through my own men unscathed, and there are no known passes through the mountains at their back even if they could get up those cliffs. Alcaster's gamble to take the fort failed, and they are without recourse. They have dug in at their position, but the knights that betrayed Alcaster while they…tried to return your sister…say that food is in short supply. There is no more bread or beans, and they have started eating a few of the older horses. They have gold that they have been unable to spend, but they cannot eat that and what they have stolen is gone. I…have been weighing the possibility of letting them get even hungrier before attacking, or just giving them all as quick of deaths as we can."

"If it means fewer losses for us," I tell him, "I do not mind waiting to attack." _And there are other reasons I might want to delay a little more._ "But you know what our own stores are like better than I."

"As you say, Princess," he admits. "I would rate our own stores as fair to good. The local lords are grateful for the warnings against Alcaster, and that they came with enough time left for them to get sheep and cattle within their walls before he could have stolen them all. They find the traditional war tax of ten percent of their herds and grain stores gone to us much preferable to entire herds gone missing. They know that they would be unable to accept coin from Alcaster without penalties for aiding treason, so had they not been able to keep their resources safe they would have been stolen or else they would have had to fight for them. I am sure that some of those nobles hope for political favors, or at least bragging rights at court, for aiding us."

"However much time you think necessary you shall have as far as I am concerned, Sir Willard," I tell him. "Justice can be patient, especially if it means less risk to our own soldiers."

He nods to me. "Yes, Your Highness. I thank you for your consideration of the soldiers under me." Then he pauses. "Are you intending to stay until the final battle? You might be more comfortable in the fort than here. And…this is a dismal place for your birthday next week."

And I am reminded that it is quite nearly my birthday, the end of so many of the cycles…though some have lasted longer. "I do not feel much like celebrating my birthday this year under the circumstances, and I am not picky about accommodations."

"Your husband is not picky, either," Sir Willard notes.

"They seemed surprised that I was perfectly satisfied with a small tent when I got here," Waltz says when I turn to look at him. "In truth, it's probably the largest occupied by a single person."

I shrug. "I might go to the fort from time to time, but I think I would rather bed down here. I want to remain where I am easily accessible, if something were to happen…and the fort is blocked off from both Alcaster and us except through magic." I might go there occasionally for a bath, as I doubt such are to be found here. Well, assuming that the fort has a stable water supply. I am sure that it must, if only because the town itself should have its own wells or perhaps an aqueduct from the mainland.

Sir Willard nods slowly. "As you wish, Your Highness. And…and I have a detail of men making a coffin for your sister, for her transport back to the capitol until she can have something worthy of her. If you wish it, I will take you there myself. You…have my most heartfelt condolences."

And I know that I can do nothing else once he mentions this, but go see my sister. So, I take my husband's arm, and allow Sir Willard to lead me to her with Jurien trailing in my shadow.

"You could have obtained a coffin from the town before Maeve put her barrier up," I note. That port might not be large enough to rate a full time coffin-maker, but there would be a carpenters that serve the town's populace and make emergency repairs of ships that come into the port.

"We could have, Your Highness," Sir Willard slowly notes. "But…but we were the ones that failed her. So a coffin is our responsibility. Maeve laid a spell so she would not…decay before being properly interred, and obtained a dress more fit for her wake last night than the blood soaked one she perished in."

"You did what you could," I answer softly. "I blame Alcaster and the archer that fired the arrow for her death, not anyone here in this camp."

"There…will be some quite relieved to hear that, Princess," the commander slowly answers me. "Those that volunteered for this duty are mainly sleeveless."

I nod. "Those that abandoned Alcaster to try to rescue my sister?"

"Exactly," he says. "The former Redarms that rejoined us. Had they succeeded, they would be eligible for the offer you made, but as it is…all I have offered them are their former positions and amnesty from their earlier crimes. I…guessed that you would give them that much."

"You were correct in that," I admit. "Though I would be happier granting my original offer, had they been successful in returning my sister alive."

"So would everyone else," Sir Willard tells me. "When they came into our camp, they ripped the red sleeves off and burned them wanting to rid themselves of that stain…but it is still perfectly obvious which side they originally chose. At best, they are seen as dupes and failures. In truth, only the knights that were kin or had once been their best friends welcomed them."

"They were relieved that they would not have to kill them," I muse, and Sir Willard nods.

"Exactly, Princess," he agrees. "But…the sleeveless are among the men that anticipate the battle the most wholeheartedly. Some might want redemption, others revenge…but both feats require Alcaster's blood."

And once that blood is shed, I will have no more time.

We walk the rest of the way in silence, all the way to a rock the size of a house at the edge of camp. A small detail of men and women, many of them missing a sleeve, are carving of piece of what had been a large tree into a narrow box, and cutting planks from the rest of the tree to make what appears to be a lid. But the cutting, sawing, and hammering stops as we are noticed. They all bow, and back away as I approach. I hardly notice Sir Willard take his leave of me as my eyes fall to the small form stretched out on a blanket in the shadow of the boulder.

My sister is dressed in a robin-egg blue dress that had probably once been some girl's prize feast day dress, and I cannot see any blood upon it as I come closer. I kneel down beside her, on the grass, just taking Emelaigne in with my eyes. While her fine blond hair is brushed the way she always wore it, she is devoid of color. Here face is pale where there had once been rosy cheeks that blushed so readily; her lips that once had an easy smile are blue. Someone has closed her eyes so she might appear to be sleeping if it was dark enough that you could not see her lack of color, her face has been washed and even her fingernails are clean. I can only assume that she had been quite grimy before she made her final escape attempt, and quite bloody afterwards. Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble for her to look as in a good of a condition as she does.

I feel the eyes of the workers around me, quietly watching. They are trying to serve her in her death, after having failed her in her life. So many people had failed her, for her to end up this way. Father had not sent her somewhere safe and had failed her, the men and women that were sworn to protect her had kidnaped her and failed her, those that tried to rescue her and bring her back alive to safety had failed her, and I….

I had allowed it all to happen simply because some fairy is being stubborn.

I had failed her.

"I'm so sorry Emelaigne," I whisper, my hand coming to stroke her hair before I completely break down in tears. My husband enfolds me, and holds me while I weep. I do not even care that there are eyes upon me, as I bawl in public.

Let them see; let them see that I loved my sister. She was a commoner, a baker's daughter, an innocent girl with a smile that could light up a room, a stalwart young woman that did her duty, a friend, a sister, and…and….

When I finally settle down, there is a large woman that is missing a sleeve kneeling before me. "If you will permit me…permit us…we never had a chance to thank her, and she deserves for her tale to be told," the knight says. "Everyone here without a sleeve owes your sister their lives; we would all be lost, otherwise."

"What did she do that saved you?" I ask. "Mum…the queen had mentioned that she had tried to escape, and had made it obvious that she was a prisoner instead of being rescued."

The woman nods. "She tried twice. Alcaster had told us all that we were rescuing the queen and the rightful heir to the throne from you after you had murdered your father. But…but when we heard word that the king still lived, Princess Emelaigne tried to escape that very night."

I nod. "She knew that her guard would have been increased, once Alcaster realized that she knew that she was a prisoner, and decided to take her chances before that happened." I notice that Mum had not mentioned trying to escape herself, and I can only guess that she had chosen to try to cover her daughter's escape instead of joining her. It must have torn my sister up to try to escape while leaving her mother behind, but she had tried it anyway. It had been her duty.

"Quite probably, Your Highness," the woman answers. "Alcaster tried to hush up that she had nearly escaped and increased her guard, but some of us were starting to wonder at that time what was really going on…if Alcaster had told us the truth. After all, if you had really decided to kill your father, he would be dead. And then…we started to try to resupply, but no one would sell to us. The foraging parties were shown the notices you put out, and that you offered pardon and more for the return of the queen or the princess, and vengeance for anyone that aided those keeping them from you.

"At first, Alcaster tried to play it as a political move and told us not to tell others; that you meant to starve us for daring to escape with your 'rival' to carry her to safety, and he put only his most loyal men on foraging missions as we marched. They came back with supplies…and sometimes black eyes we knew they had not gotten from merchants and farmers that had been paid for their goods. It was obvious that they had started stealing. And…there were rumors that some among us had killed a parley messenger."

I nod. "Men do not like their livelihoods taken, but they like being jailed for treason even less. And yes, a parley messenger was found dead without even the seals of his missive broken."

The woman sighs. "A few of us started asking Alcaster how we could rally a nation to support a new queen if they hated us for stealing from them, but he tried to brush that off too, saying that it was the lords that were important…but all of the keeps and walled towns were closed against us. Several wealthy lords offered us both food and coin for the return of the queen or Princess Emelaigne, but Alcaster always ignored these offers. The only person that ever _did_ sell to us was a baker that met us with a cartload of bread that left both bread and cart as soon as he was paid…and we found messages stuffed inside the loaves of bread, promising pardon and more for the rescue of the queen or Princess Emelaigne."

"Sir Willard thought it best to make sure news of that offer reached the troops," Waltz puts in. "The man required _my_ promise that he would not be held responsible for selling to the traitors, since I was the only member of the royal family easily reachable."

"That…would make sense, Your Highness," the woman notes. "And then the princess tried to escape a second time. The men bringing her back took her to Alcaster within full view of the camp, and he tried to chastise her for 'not accepting' who you really were, Your Highness; for not accepting that you were just another witch that wanted to rule Angielle.

"She told him that if you really were what he claimed, you would have already taken the throne…and would have needed no one's help to do it, much less his. And Alcaster lost his temper, and struck her. She did not try to get out of his way, taking a hard blow instead. When she was able to rise…she thanked him for proving her point, for making it obvious that she was a prisoner instead of a princess being rescued. She said that a prisoner might be struck at any time, but never the 'rightful queen' he was saying that she was."

"That…that sounds like something you might have done, Lucette," Waltz says quietly from beside me. I can only nod my head in silence.

That is exactly what I would have done, in that situation. I might have even tried to escape in broad daylight knowing I would likely be recaptured, so there would be plenty of witnesses to hear my words when I was returned to Alcaster. And somehow, I do not doubt that this is exactly what my sister had done.

She had decided not to try to escape at that point, but to show every man and woman that followed Alcaster the truth of what he was, and of what he was doing. She had decided that the ignorant and bamboozled among them needed a second chance, and that she would need their help to get both her and her mother out. It was really her best chance of escape, to get caught doing so. And if she had succeeded in escaping despite a half-hearted attempt in doing so, it still would have been good. It was a situation in which she could not loose.

"She then went on to make the actual situation even more obvious," the knight tells me. "She…she said that the ironic thing is that she was in love with Alcaster's son, but had never told Fritz of her feelings so she would never know if he had returned them before Alcaster himself saw to her death for refusing to be his puppet, since she had no intention of being anything of the sort no matter what he did to her. She said that the most she currently hoped for was that Fritz might put flowers on her grave every now and then, and perhaps miss her. That had the circumstances been different, she might have become Alcaster's daughter-in-law, and born his grandchildren but that that future was forever lost due to Alcaster's betrayal of the king."

Emelaigne might have thought that that future was lost to her at the time, but I hold desperately to the hope that it is not lost; that even though my sister lies in state before me, that she still might one day be the joyful mother of Fritz's children. "But Alcaster does not care about his son," I say softly. "The best I can say is that he is indifferent towards him."

"That is not a fact that many knew before the time," the woman says slowly, "but that does make sense. Alcaster admitted that we were committing treason, and said that we were now all bound to his fate, for good or for ill. He said that he did not care about who he shared blood with, that if Fritz had opposed him in trying to bring strength to Angielle, he would kill him himself. She countered that he served not Angielle, but himself as he tried to divide it against itself as he had just divided the Order of Caldira. She said that none of us had any excuse for believing otherwise, and if any of us still had nobility of heart that you had promised pardon, property, and title to those who return her or her mother to you…that we would have both your mercy and your grace. She said that even if all we could do was abandon the traitor, we would at least have peace with ourselves…and that those sent after us would not be shedding the blood of men that regretted what they had done. She said that as soon as Alcaster had no hostages, that whoever remained with him would be walking dead men and women as the Crown exacted justice."

"She was not wrong in that," I admit. "Father ordered no quarter to be taken or given concerning those remaining with Alcaster."

The woman shivers. "It is one thing to think it, and another to hear it from your lips, Your Highness, knowing that it could have been me facing the Crown's wrath for betrayal when I had been trying to serve it. I cannot say that it is unwarranted, under the circumstances. On that day, we _all_ found out what the truth was. Apparently, Alcaster decided he needed a victory immediately, and picked the most remote fort within striking distance to try to take. I do not know if he still thought we had a legitimate chance of taking it or perhaps escaping in the harbor's boats, or if he was just trying to delay his own end. But everywhere else had been warned of us days before we got there, so we thought that Fort Summerfell would be no different."

"I was guarding the queen and Princess Emelaigne when Alcaster came to them one night to explain that the queen would be sent into the fort to try to convince them to let us in willingly, and that if they did not that the princess would be killed," another sleeveless knight, this one an older man, says as he puts a plane aside to kneel before me as well. "I overheard the princess tell her mother not to let Alcaster use her as a tool against Angielle, no matter what. She was certain that Alcaster would have her killed regardless of what happened, but that her mother should not worry about her because she was going to be as brave as you, Your Highness. And the rest of us knew that she was right…that Alcaster _would_ kill her in the morning when the queen did not return to camp. We assumed that the queen would not return, if only because of that order from you that required her return to you; that the fort commander would not let her out of his grasp whatever she said that she wanted. Alcaster must have been either delusional or desperate to think his plan to take the fort using the queen might work."

"So you decided to attempt to rescue Emelaigne before it was too late," I say. "The only way out for you lay in getting my sister out of Alcaster's grasp."

"And it was the only honorable thing we could do," the woman says. "At least…the only way we could restore any of our own honor. And…and we all knew that your sister deserved better than what we knew would happen if we did nothing. We were able to get her out of the camp, but there were enough of us leaving at once that it could not be hidden. We thought it might be better if they tried to fight us as we ran if there were more of us anyway…and fighting did happen. It was more arrows than swords, though. Our shields blocked some of them, but there were still both injuries and causalities. Your sister was not strong enough to carry a shield herself _and_ run, and the man that had been using his shield to protect her fell himself. And that is when she took the arrow that shortly ended her life."

"That is all either of us can tell you, Your Highness," the man says. "Though Rom might be able to tell you more about her final moments, if you wish it. He…picked her up after dropping his own shield and carried her the rest of the way. But she was dead by the time your witch got to her…the distance was too far, and we could not take horses to get out due to the horse traps."

Rom. Yes, that is his name. I remember him laughing with Fritz, saying that as much as they looked alike, that they should switch duties sometime to see if anyone noticed. Fritz had laughed, and said that if anyone would notice, that it would be me…and that trying to fool me in such a way was unwise. And it occurs to me…if Rom was carrying her, would my sister have though she was in the arms of the man she loved as she died? In the dark, that would have been an easy mistake to make.

It would have made her death a little easier, had that been the case. Even I would tell the dying any comfortable lie.

"I think I would like to talk to him at some point," I say softly.

"We will tell him, Your Highness," the woman promises me. "And…and I have heard him asking others if they have seen Sir Fritz. Apparently he desperately wants to talk to him, but no one has seen him for months."

"That is because I sent Fritz on a sensitive mission some months ago," I answer. If Rom was asking for Fritz, my sister had said something that he thought Fritz needed to hear. In all probability, Emelaigne _had_ thought that it was Fritz carrying her. It would have been a comfort to her, as she perished. "He has been outside Angielle since that time. I…desperately hope he will return soon."

I sigh and turn back to my sister, and brush a strand of hair out of her face that the wind had misplaced. Her hair is still soft, but her skin is cold. "You were always so worried about being a proper princess," I say, even though I know she cannot hear me. "Anyone can take protocol lessons, but you were born with a strong, courageous heart; you were born a princess, on the inside."

…..

We get to the tent Waltz had been using, and it seems relatively comfortable to me. It is a circular pavilion type, tall enough for even Waltz to stand in, though he has to watch his head for the beams supporting it from the inside. It is furnished with a cot that rises above the ground, but nothing else. The cot will be big enough for the two of us, if we lay side by side, and we like cuddling anyway.

"I thought it too big for just me," my husband explains, "but I thought the knights would go into apoplexy if I asked for anything smaller than this."

"You are a prince now," I tell him. "If you do not allow people to provide you with things within certain standards, they will think that they are not doing their jobs in taking care of you correctly. If this was not a war camp, it would be indecent for me to be here without even a single maid."

But I end up with one anyway. I go to the fort to speak with Maeve and the commander there, and find myself presented with an eager, if not classically trained, girl to serve as my maid. Apparently, she is a farm girl that normally waits on the wife of the fort's commander. The commander's wife insists that I accept her maid's services while I remain in the camp, especially since I do not intend to room within the fort itself where I might have quarters of my own. Naturally, I graciously accept. The girl bobs much more than absolutely necessary, and asks me to excuse her if she does something inappropriately since she has no experience waiting on nobility at all, much less royalty. I simply tell her what my few needs are, and that she is free to do as she will otherwise, and she manages well enough. At any rate, it saves the knights from being assigned to wait on me.

The next three days bring little but rain, and thus there is not even a chance for fighting. This is perfectly fine with me. Bowstrings do not react well to such conditions, and thus stay waxed and within their owners' belt pouches. And I find this an entirely new experience. I have not been this idle in some time, with absolutely nothing to do. I am not busy fixing the Tenebrarum that I am keeping in the tent, much to the fascination of the maid, and I am not trying to rule Angielle while my father convalesces. Waltz uses this time to teach me more magic, and when we take breaks we put up a sound barrier and discuss how we should handle some things during the next cycle…assuming we get an agreement from Veles.

And I am not sure if that fairy were to appear in front of me at this moment, if I would faint in relief or throttle him for keeping me waiting this long. This upcoming battle would not have been necessary without him stalling.

The only thing of importance that I do see to is to raise a magical barrier that will keep the rain from those completing my sister's coffin as they work. They had created a makeshift awning and table for Emelaigne to keep the rain from her, and I returned the favor by keeping the rain from them. As Waltz and I walk away, it is almost pretty to look at as rain spatters against an invisible globe.

And then time runs out several days after the rain does. Sir Willard decides that the traitors are probably as hungry and weak as they are likely to be, and that the morrow holds battle. I am invited to the planning session the afternoon before the battle. As I walk down to Sir Willard's strategy tent, I search the air hoping for enough water to start it raining again.

…

Those present seem to be high ranking officers, though I do notice a few with no right sleeve. These are the ranking officers from among the soldiers that attempted to rescue my sister. Tomorrow, they will be wearing one of their own socks with a hole cut out for the wrist on their arms to differentiate themselves from the current Redarms, so the guilty cannot merely remove a sleeve and claim that they had switched with the others to avoid being killed on the spot. According to Jurien, the names of all the Sleeveless have been carefully recorded, to find out anyone that manages to look the proper part without having previously betrayed Alcaster. They are taking no chances that the archer that ended my sister's life might escape alive.

Sir Willard is going over the plan for the battle that is scheduled for the next morning. They appear to be heavily relying on archers, and for more than one reason. Aside from the practicalities of needing to kill the men hiding behind their rows of stakes without a charge of horses, I know that it is because many of these men will know the faces of the men they will be killing. They would rather not be close enough to see those faces as they die. I pay attention, but even though I have had lessons in the basics of battle and its tactics, this is not an area in which I have expertise. In fact, I do not need to say anything at all until Sir Willard asks me a question.

"Your Highness," he asks me, "do you find it necessary to give the order to take Alcaster alive, or simply to do so if reasonably possible?"

"No," I tell him. Either the battle will happen and Alcaster will be killed, or I will have to delay the battle itself. "Not when my father has ordered no quarter to be given. This act, in and of itself, is more a mass execution in which the prisoners fight back than a normal battle. An arrow in his skull, a sword through his chest, or facing a headsman will all kill him and bring justice. If someone finds it reasonably practical to take him alive, that is fine, but there is no need to make a special effort to do so."

There is almost a sigh of relief around me as I pronounce those words. Any of these men and women would be honored to be the one to bring Alcaster before me or my father with the accomplishment of his capture…but he is so skilled with the sword that they might not live long enough to present him to anyone even if they 'won' the fight. No one expects Alcaster to die with a clean blade in his hands.

Sir Willard nods at my words. "I almost hesitate to ask…but is there anything you might be able to do aid in the battle as a witch?"

Waltz shifts beside me. "An uncorrupted witch is bound against directly harming humans. She would be able to impede them, so _you_ could cause the harm."

"Would a rainstorm be useful?" I ask. It looks like either way, whether I am helping or delaying the battle, I will be making it rain. "I could keep it in place only over their camp, and wet their bowstrings so they are unable to fire back…though you should know that if it rains on its own, I cannot guarantee that the storm will be contained. Or if there are any aquafers beneath the land the traitors mean to make a stand on, I could cause those to open as well. Mud could slow their movements, or even drive them from behind their defenses if bad enough. They might not know the difference between puddles and their own trenches, if much remains of them after the weather we had a few days ago."

"It might be very useful, Princess. Our scouts have observed them trying to repair their trenches," Sir Willard tells me. "If you can take what is left their mobility, they will be less able to charge our archers who will then have a much better chance of killing a larger portion of them before we have to try to get behind the stakes ourselves." Then he pauses. "But this is not worth it if it would expose your person to danger…"

"My husband can keep a shield in place around me while I work," I tell him. "If you want to lessen the risk even further, find a place in which I might be fairly unobserved. And it might be useful if you show me the area beforehand, like tonight, so I know which tactic will work better."

He nods. "It shall be done, Princess. You will have an escort prepared to take you such a place within the hour. And perhaps tomorrow, someone will present Alcaster's head to you as your birthday gift."

"Good, because that is just what I wanted."

Just what I wanted right behind an agreement with Veles…or having my sister back.

…


	53. A Birthday Present

**Chapter 53**

 **A Birthday Present**

I cannot ride a horse due to my condition, there are no roads for even a handcart, I cannot use a portal because the light of it is likely to be seen by the enemy; this means that I must walk to our destination. We start out after an early supper in a small group, with my husband, Jurien, and two scouts to show us the way. The group might be larger, but Sir Willard decided that it would be easier to notice more people walking.

On foot, it takes us more than an hour to get into position, and dusk has fallen bringing with it a chill. My husband sets up a simple warming spell that banishes the cool air as I sit down on a log to rest while I survey the situation. I search the sky for water, and find that there is still some lingering. There would be enough to make it rain, and I could draw it to over where Alcaster camps. I search the ground for water as well, but I find that most of it is from runoff from the mountain behind the base of the cliff where Alcaster is camped. I search higher up, and find that there are other streams that I could redirect to flood Alcaster's camp. The fort could do without its water supply for one day, and I am sure that this is what also feeds the aqueduct that supplies the town with its port as well.

It would probably be polite to let both the fort and the town know that their water supply will be temporarily redirected for a day. I doubt Alcaster has a way of communicating with either of them even if there are traitors there, or what he could do about it if he did know. He cannot move to higher ground without abandoning his defenses, such as they are. The water will wash into the ocean, but only after it fills his trenches and weakens the ground holding the stakes.

They are caught between a cliff, a fort, the ocean, and a superior number of enemies. I can only suppose the reason Alcaster has not asked for the terms of surrender is because he assumes that their deaths have already been commanded. He is correct in that, but the use of a headsman would give them all less painful deaths than they now face.

"Waltz," I say softly, and my husband comes to sit next to me. "What is the difference between directly harming a human, and making circumstances in which you know another human will harm the human? As a witch, can I truly do this?"

"What is the difference between justice and vengeance?" he asks me in turn.

I pause for a moment, to think. "Justice is what is due inside of the law with punishment doled out by the proper authority figure," I finally say. "Vengeance is what the wronged party perceives as due, and seeks to accomplish regardless of legal allotment."

Waltz nods. "They are both similar in that they involve the judgement and punishment of those perceived as guilty, but in a legal justice system, the accused have a chance to defend themselves."

"And these soldiers had a chance to defend, to save, themselves," he tells me. "Emelaigne made sure of it. Your sister made certain that they all knew that Alcaster was a traitor to the Crown, and that they had a way out by rescuing and returning either herself or her mother. They had a means of redemption, of seeking pardon; they had the chance to defend themselves."

I nod. "They did have that chance."

"And those slavers you captured had the chance to defend themselves in the court of law as well," my husband continues. "You knew when you captured them, that some of them were likely to be executed for their crimes; you knew that the captain that tried to kill you certainly would face the hangman's noose. But you were still able to use your magic to capture them, knowing they would face an executioner. This is really no different. You are allowing their executioners better access to the guilty condemned by your father."

"You are right," I admit, looking over to the camp where fires are being lit as the light of the sun fades. "Except on scale. There are so many more, this time. There will be much more blood."

Waltz sighs. "There is no way around that. They will be a danger to anyone in their path until they are destroyed. You knew this when you suggested this action to your father, that none be left alive."

And I had known. But it is one thing to know something in pain, in fury, and to face performing the same action once emotions have had time to cool. I still know that the action is necessary, but I know that I will find much less satisfaction in it than I thought I would in the midst of my pain.

I sigh, but then pause as I feel a flash of warm fairy magic not far from here. One of the scouts chooses this moment to ask, "Your Highness, are you ready to return to the camp?"

"There is a fairy near…two of them," I say, extending a spell to see if I can recognize who is approaching. I recognize Parfait without much trouble, there is a powerful fairy that I am unfamiliar with…someone stronger than she is. And a human that is all too familiar. "And Fritz!"

And I know that it the other fairy with them must be Veles; it could be no one else.

"Are you sure?" Waltz asks me, suddenly hopeful, and Jurien's eyes light up as well. She knows what I have been waiting for, what I must have before Alcaster lies among the fallen.

"Yes…yes I am sure," I tell him, before turning to the two scouts that accompanied us. "There are three people approaching. My knight, the Lucis Bearer who is a good friend of mine, and a potential ally that has something of a chip on his shoulder. When they come, please withdraw but stay where you can keep watch if there is any movement from the enemy camp, or for their own scouts. Jurien may remain with me."

The two scouts nod, and I get up and start walking toward where I know the party looking for me is coming from. If we have need of any light, I do not want to be where it is easily seen by Alcaster's men. When the scouts tell me they think it is safe to do so, I put up a small ball of light in the falling darkness, and I feel Waltz putting up a sound barrier so the scouts cannot hear us.

It is not long before I hear twigs breaking under feet, and three figures approach us. Parfait is the first despite the fact that she looks thoroughly exhausted, the next is an unfamiliar fairy with blue hair and yellow eyes that wears a sword, and Fritz is the last. And I cannot help but rush over to hug my knight, and even as he returns it I notice that his eyes still hold worry. And then I know.

Veles has agreed to nothing but to come here, to meet me. He probably has no intention of helping me at this time.

I turn around to Parfait, who looks like she is just barely able to stand. "You need to sit down before you fall down," I tell her.

She gives me half of a smile. "I had to find you," she tells me as I lower her to sit on the trunk of a fallen tree. "I had to get here before it was too late."

"The battle is on the morrow," I tell her, then I turn to face my guest.

"This is Veles," Parfait says, quite unnecessarily. "And Veles, this is Lucette."

"I take it that you wanted to meet me before making any further decisions?" I ask.

Veles nods. "Fritz said that you were blunt."

"He did not lie," I tell him. "Personally, I find that it saves time and effort. And I am running low on time."

"Then I shall be blunt as well," Veles tells me. "I have had very poor experiences with nobles, and I believe very little of their words. I am here because I promised Fritz that I would meet with you if he bested me at the sword."

And I cannot help but smile, my eyes darting to my knight. "You must be _very_ good, for it to have taken him this long to best you. It's a pity I am not in a condition to spar with you myself. I find it is a good way to get to know someone quickly."

"I…cannot disagree with that statement, Lucette," Veles tells me, obviously making a point to use my name instead of my title. "He told me that you are reasonably good, yourself. At the very least, you must have some level of discipline."

"If you repeat six months of your life over and over, you are bound to develop new skills," I tell him. I glance over at Jurien. "If it pleases you to assess my own skills with a blade, Lady Jurien was one of my teachers, and I had her skill the last time I was able to spar. But you did not come here to use your blade. You came here to see if helping me in my task was a worthy goal…or if I was worthy of your aid? If I am even worth saving?"

"Yes," he simply answers.

I nod. Nothing is within my grasp except hope. I will not try to delay the battle now. There is no better way for Veles to decide to help me than to observe me in the situations the battle would create. And as in the last night of the previous cycle, I find myself taking an 'all or nothing' gamble once more. The consequences of the next day will destroy me, or give me the only chance I have for victory. "Very well. If my words will not convince you, watch my actions and then judge them. If you want to see what kind of a person I am, talk to anyone in this camp from the lowest camp follower to Sir Willard himself. I am sure my husband Waltz," I say, nodding to him, "will also be willing to answer any questions about me. But I am also certain that you will expect his opinions to be biased. You have until the battle is over tomorrow to make up your mind."

"Very well," the blue-haired fairy tells me. "I would like to talk to your servants, if you would identify them for me."

"If you are talking of those that serve me as their Bearer," I say, "you can only easily reach Lady Maeve. She is within the fort itself, and has the responsibility of ensuring the enemy cannot get to the town. Jurien may go with you, to tell her that she can answer your questions; she will wonder what business of yours it is otherwise. Maeve does not know of the cycling. If you are speaking of human servants, there is only one; a local farm girl on loan from the fort commander's wife."

Veles blinks, surprised. "I…would have thought you would have had more."

"This is a war camp," I tell him. "The only reason I have even the one is that the commander's wife would have been offended had I not accepted her kind offer. I have been without servants for most of the past eleven years, and it has not killed me yet. In fact, I spent a lot of time sweeping floors and running errands for Parfait. Work does not scare me anymore than I imagine that it scares you."

He says nothing to this, and Waltz drops the sound barrier, calling the sentries to return to lead us back to camp. Parfait is so tired, Waltz picks her up and carries her. Both of the scouts protest the prince laboring, but I remind them that their job is to ensure we do not get lost and to watch for enemies. And that I want to talk to Fritz, who will have trouble with this if he is burdened.

"I did what I could," Fritz tells me as we walk back toward the camp, my hand on his arm to keep myself from tripping on the underbrush.

"You have never failed me, Fritz," I tell him. "There is a chance, now." I frown for a moment. "You…heard about Emelaigne?" I ask, wondering if Parfait told him what I told her before leaving.

He nods solemnly, looking both sad and wistful himself. "I…wish she had not had to suffer what she did. You have my condolences."

I take a deep breath and tell Fritz everything I had learned since coming to camp. He does not interject, until I get to the part where she made Alcaster admit to everyone what was really going on, after her second escape attempt. "Princess," he says, "that sounds exactly like something you would have done!"

"I told you that she has…had a strength not so unlike my own," I tell my knight.

"You were right in that," Fritz says, sounding impressed. Then he sighs, and lowers his voice further so the scouts with us will not hear. "I will forget all of this. But…but during the next cycle, once I am certain that both you and your heart are safe in your husband's care…please tell me about this."

"Of course," I tell him, and then I continue on with everything else. "Rom was with her, carrying her, in her final moments," I finally finish. "I heard that he was looking for you. I…I think that she might have mistaken him for you."

Fritz bows his head, and sighs. "Once we get back to camp…will you show me where they are keeping her?"

"Of course," I tell him.

"Wasn't she a baker's daughter?" Veles asks from behind me.

"She was my sister," I answer. "It does not matter that we shared no blood. At least, it mattered to neither of us."

When we get to camp, the scouts that served as our guides are dismissed after receiving instructions that places need to be found for Parfait, Fritz, and Veles to sleep…and Parfait needs someplace immediately. She is sleeping while being carried, her energy totally spent, by the time we get back to camp. Waltz leaves, still carrying her, telling me that he will meet me back in our tent. Jurien continues to follow me silently as I lead Fritz toward where Emelaigne is being kept, and Veles follows us like a shadow.

Somewhere along the way, Fritz has collected a fistful of wildflowers that he places on my sister's now finished coffin, which is on a stand, still in the shadow of that boulder. I continue to use my small ball of light to be able to see, and it casts soft shadows everywhere.

"I might not have failed you," Fritz tells me softly, "but I did fail her. If Veles had been convinced earlier, none of this would be happening. You would have dropped the heavy end of the hammer on my father as soon as Veles agreed."

"And I allowed it to happen," I sigh.

"You had no choice," Fritz tells me. "It was her or…."

He trails off, and I hear footsteps. I turn around to see a knight without a sleeve coming into the light. "Your Highness," he says, bowing to me. "I…was told that you wanted to see me. And Fritz…I need to talk to you too."

I nod. "It was Rom, wasn't it?" I ask. "You were the knight that carried my sister the rest of the way, after she took that arrow." And I know that he had abandoned his own shield to do so. He easily could have died, himself, in trying to save my sister just as the other man had.

And I realize that I do not even know the name of the man that had died trying to save my sister.

"Yes, Your Highness," he says, approaching to kneel before me. "What I have to say concerns both of you. She…she wanted you to know…she thought that I was you Fritz…."

"An easy mistake to make, especially under the circumstances," Fritz says.

"I said what I thought would comfort her, not knowing what was true or not," Rom admits. "You have my apologies if you think I should have done differently."

"If you consoled my sister in her final minutes, you have my gratitude for it," I answer softly.

Fritz nods from beside me. "She deserved any comfort you could give her…and much more than that."

"Thank you both," he says, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Like I said, I picked her up, and she thought I was you Fritz, she asked if I was you. Having heard what she had said earlier, that she was in love with you, I said that I was to comfort her. When I said that I was you, her expression relaxed, and she said that she loved you, Fritz. She said that she was always too shy to say so before you left, but she had decided to be brave and wanted you to know before she died.

"I said that I loved her too, but that I just had not thought it proper to say anything in light of the differences in our stations. She smiled, and said that we were both foolish; her for not telling you sooner, and I…you…for thinking that she would care that you were not a noble. She said that she wished things could have been different, that the two of you could have had more time…but that she was happy that she was at least able to see you one last time, and tell you how she felt."

And even in the dark, I can still see a tear running down Fritz's face. But Rom turns to me.

"She also wanted me to tell you something, Princess," he says. "She wanted you to know that she had been a real princess, just like you told her she could be…just like you are."

"My sister was always so worried about being a proper princess," I admit, tears springing to my eyes as well, "but the truth was that the only things she lacked for that could be taught, and she already possessed everything that could not be taught. She was born with a courageous heart, and did what she had to in order to serve others. I know of no better way to summarize the life of a worthy princess."

"Nor do I, Your Highness," Rom admits, finally starting to weep. "And…and she died with a smile on her face. I'm sorry I couldn't run any faster than I did. I heard that your witch saved your father, when Alcaster had impaled him with a sword. If I had gotten to her faster, or to His Highness…."

"Emelaigne would not have wanted anyone to punish themselves for being unable to save her, no matter who they were," I tell the man, unable to keep a tremor from my own voice. "You did your best, and that is all that she, the king, or I would expect of you."

…..

After the three of us stop crying, I make my way back to my tent. Fritz tells me that he wants to fight tomorrow. "Just remember that your father will kill you if he can. Do not allow yourself to think otherwise for a single second," I remind him.

"I know," Fritz sighs, before ducking into a tent that already seems a little crowded when the flaps open. I hear some stirring when the tent flap falls, questions forming, but then it falls quiet again as Fritz simply says, "I don't want to talk about it."

 _Of course…. He does not want to talk about where he has been these last months or what he has been doing, he does not want to talk about his father, and he does not want to talk about Emelaigne._ After what my sister said when she confronted Alcaster, the entire camp knows that she was in love with Fritz, now. But in a way, it was her gift to him. Instead of being reviled as Alcaster's son, Fritz is seen as a tragic figure. Everyone knows that he could have lived the 'happily ever after' of tales, if his father had not had the princess that loved him killed. I am sure that everyone wonders if Fritz had loved Emelaigne as well. If he had…that would make his situation even more tragic.

I know that Fritz would not want the pity of the general public, but he might see it as better than the scorn. I wonder if it would have been easier to bear, what might have changed about me, had the populace of Angielle had seen me as a tragic figure at the end of the Great War instead of merely my mother's daughter. They had not known that my mother had isolated me, denied me the affection the father that loved me, or taken the only friend I had ever had. Had they known, they might have looked me with pity instead…some of them, anyway.

I would have misinterpreted that pity, of course, thinking that it occurred because I was a child that had lost her mother. However, I would have dared to venture outside the palace with my father more often, allowed him more time with me. Would I have grown closer to my father, and consequently not needed my curse? How much would be different had I never needed a curse to start with? Would Myth had taken action himself to ensure my relationship with my father remained strained?

I realize that I have no answer for those questions. So much of my life has been defined by seemingly small choices.

When we get to my tent, Jurien stands beside the opening as her relief has about another hour to arrive. Sir Willard has a few men he trusts absolutely to guard me, and they rotate through so Jurien can get some sleep as well. But tonight, I assume that Veles will be collecting her at the end of her watch so they can go talk to Maeve.

"This is it?" Veles asks, looking at my own small tent.

"If you want to come in and see for yourself, you may," I tell him. "My husband is probably already inside."

The fairy does stick his head in, and looks surprised as all he can see for furniture is the cot on which my husband sits, still dressed, waiting for me. The only object of beauty is the Tenebrarum itself, seemingly almost humming in the side of the tent opposite the cot as it feeds on the eve of battle.

"You were expecting a chandelier perhaps?" I suggest. "Silk sheets on a four poster bed? A banquet table?"

"If Cedellina royalty went to war, they would probably have those things," Veles deadpans. "I would at least expect a second cot, and maybe a few chairs and a table even if the army had marched unexpectedly."

I shrug. "We're still newlyweds. We like to cuddle, so we didn't complain about the size of the cot."

"Excuse me!" I hear from behind Veles, and my maid comes through the tent flap as Veles backs out of her way momentarily. A pitcher of steaming water is in her hands, as well as a few clean cloths draped over her arms for us to use for washing before bed. She sets the pitcher carefully on a large, flat rock she has gotten somewhere and placed at the side of the tent to serve as a type of table. She curtsies to me before setting the clean towels on the bed. "Is there anything else, Princess? I put a few apples and some cheese up for your snack," she says, gesturing to a small sack that hangs from a hook on one of the poles supporting the tent.

I point out Veles, who is still standing in the entrance to the tent. "That is Veles, a fairy, and a…potential associate of mine. He has some questions for you. Feel free to answer them candidly, and then you are dismissed to your own bed."

The girl looks at Veles quizzically before answering, "Yes Princess," and curtsying before leaving the tent. Then, she stands outside of it next to Veles, looking up at him expectantly, her arms crossed as she taps her foot, plainly waiting for him impatiently but not saying so where I can hear.

I almost laugh. She is quite clearly not a classically trained maid. And somehow…somehow I think that it is better that Veles sees this than a maid from the palace serving me.

The fairy just looks at her a moment before shaking his head, and his gaze returns to me. "You are a very odd princess," he finally says.

"If you think me peculiar now," I tell him with a grin, "ask my husband what I was wearing when we got married sometime."

Veles eyes me carefully for a moment, only giving me a brief nod before letting the tent flap close so he can talk to the maid out of my earshot, and I hear a rustling as they both walk away.

"What do you think?" Waltz asks me, helping me out of my dress so I can wash.

"That he is very stubborn, and that it takes a lot for him to let go of preconceived notions," I tell him.

"The gods help us all," Waltz sighs.

…..

The morning comes earlier than anyone wants it to. After breakfast, Parfait—who is looking much better—brings Veles back to me as the soldiers assemble and organize themselves.

"What have you found out about me since last night?" I ask the fairy without preamble.

"Your maid likes you, says that you actually require less than her usual mistress, and that she has never been treated harshly," he admits. "Maeve says that you are insightful and intelligent, though in theory that could be attributed to the cycles she is ignorant of. She also says that you tend to assign people to tasks that suite them, are more than reasonable with your expectations, and are a much better judge of character as well as more proactive than your father is. The soldiers around here talk about how you rescued human girls meant for the slave trade, and that you crack down on thieves, corrupted government officials, and witches that curse without reason. They say you appear affectionate with your husband, and spend significant amounts of time in the company of both your father and your stepfamily. Apparently, before 'things' started, you were quite the spoiled brat, but you have appeared to have grown out of that."

I nod. "That is because I was a spoiled brat at that time; my father gave me everything except what I actually needed from him. But eventually, I did grow up. It did help that I got cursed as often as I did. I take nothing for granted now."

We stop our conversation as Sir Willard approaches. "Your Highness," he says, glancing at Veles and Parfait as if wondering what they are doing here. "The knights are assembled, if you would care to favor them with what we had discussed earlier…?"

"Of course," I say, nodding to my companions before I follow Sir Willard up to a position on a hill so everyone can see me as I talk, and I cast a spell that ensures that they will all hear me as well. My voice will not be overpoweringly loud, but clear and audible in the sections that I project my spell. I have mixed feelings about what I will say to them; it is not the complete truth, but in a way it is. I created circumstances in which I knew my mother would die more than once. I killed her myself this cycle, even though it was not intentional. I know that in the next cycle, I probably will ensure her final destruction…but I have not done so yet. But these men and women need to be resolute in their duty.

"Knights of Caldira, soldiers loyal to the Crown of Angielle," I begin, and silence falls over those before me like a heavy blanket. I do not even hear the squeaking of armor now as everyone stands still. "Today is the day of a fateful battle, a battle of pain. I will not list the treasonous acts committed by those you are about to face, as you know them only too well. I will not repeat the edict of the king, which promises them the justice of death for these acts, for you have heard it before. What I _will_ tell you is that you are not alone in having a painful duty as you prepare to fight former comrades, friends, and perhaps even family.

"It is commonly thought that at the end of the Great War, my mother, Hildyr, died at the hands of the fairies and the good witches that fought alongside them. This was not actually so. The truth of the matter is that my mother died by my own hand some months ago."

There is rustling from the crowd, some gasping, and many shocked expressions. I continue. "At the end of the Great War, my mother had hidden herself within the Tenebrarum, both to save herself and strengthen it. The only way she could be released to walk the world again was if _I_ let her out once my own magic manifested. She left her loyal apprentice, Myth, with instructions to corrupt me and to convince or even force me to release her. Myth donned a disguise, and embedded himself in my father's court as 'Sir Mythros,' advisor to the king.

"He followed her instructions, or at least, he tried to. Instead of accepting my mother's will, I turned Myth into stone, and destroyed my mother while she was still within the Tenebrarum so she could not escape if someone else attempted to try to force me to release her.

"Killing my own mother is not something I took lightly," I admit over a collective intake of breath, "but it was my duty to do so, nonetheless. She was too dangerous; granting her freedom in the hope that I could turn her from darkness was too risky to be an option. I had only to think of those that I loved, those I knew she would surely destroy if she had opportunity, to know that she had to die.

"On this day, your situation is not so different from the one I found myself in then. Many of you are blessed not to be bound by blood to any of the traitors, but I know that some of you are less fortunate," I say, looking at Fritz who is in the front row. "I am not saying that this will not be painful, but that it _is_ necessary. My mother made her own choices, I made mine; those that still follow Alcaster have made their own choices, and you have made yours.

"We know," I continue, "that some of Alcaster's men made their original decisions in ignorance. Due to my sister's courageous actions, these men and women have already declared themselves and were either killed by their former master thus regaining their honor before death took them, or they stand with us today ready to fight. The blood of the ignorant or repentant will not be upon your own swords and arrows, but the blood of the guilty shall.

"The only comfort I can see in such a battle is that Alcaster has already been stopped from his goal; a civil war in which he would eventually take the crown through deceit and the blood of the innocent. He has been kept from taking the life of the king; he has been kept from taking any forts, towns, or villages as his own. It is the same comfort taken by a man that has had a tourniquet applied to a limb, losing the limb but saving his own life. There is still pain, there is still loss…but Angielle will live on as you fight to eradicate the disease that tried to destroy her.

"Even if everyone else were to forget this day, I know that I never will; but instead of pushing it aside as a painful memory best forgotten, let it live on forever as a deterrent to would-be traitors, so as they count the price when deliberating treason, they find themselves lacking. May no other man raise his arms and sword against a good and just king again!" I finish, and there is a collective roar from the field of soldiers around me as fists raise into the air in support. I look around, realizing that I find this action both familiar and foreign. The only thing that has ever happened that I can compare this to is the shower of lilies and support from the city's citizens when I walked through the streets with Waltz on my way to the palace after we had defeated Mother. But despite the same level of enthusiasm, I find this very different as men and women are raising fists, bows, and swords into the air instead of flowers.

But that is appropriate to this day. There are no flowers here. Flowers die trampled underfoot and hoof on the battlefield, where beauty is found in honor and victory instead of color and fragile form, and the only peace to be found is within one's own soul through knowing that what is fought for is worth it.

They are still cheering as I step down, and I pass Sir Willard on his way to my previous vantage point. "Your Highness," he says, bowing deeply to me. "If I still live when you ascend to the throne, it would be my highest honor to serve you. Angielle could ask for no better crown princess; Angielle could ask for no better queen."

"You do me honor, Sir Willard," I reply. "I merely said what everyone needed to hear. You have the harder task."

He nods. "But now, we are all able to face it."

I walk down to where Parfait, Veles, Jurien, and my husband stand as Sir Willard addresses the troops and gives his officers the final marching orders. There is a warm trickle, and I lose the sound of his voice as I join them. I assume that one of the fairies has just put a sound barrier up.

Veles looks at me as I approach with an odd look on his face. "You encouraged them," he says, as if confused.

"I did," I admit.

"There would have been more fear, more pain, had you not," Veles tells me. "You are here to strengthen your Crystallum, and then you curtail what would feed it?"

"I do my duty," I tell him. "I have a duty to these soldiers as much as I do others. My Tenebrarum is strong enough to survive the next shattering, strengthening it only affects how much work I will need to do next time."

Veles only stares at me for a moment. "You risk _everything_ if you fall due to the extra pain it will take to repair it!" he finally says incredulously.

 _Unless you agree to help me, it might not matter._ But I nod. "And on the other hand, I need to experience the same amount of pain that drove my mother mad. I cannot curtail the pain too much, without affecting what it will take me to complete the measure. It is a balance. Even if this was not so, I would not have changed a word I said. They serve the same nation I do, and they honor me as their next leader. I know that in other nations the relationship between monarch, or future monarch, and their populace differs. In Angielle…. They honor and serve me, and I honor and serve them in return. There is always debt to be met."

"You…actually mean what you say," Veles says slowly. "You would not have tried to strengthen their hearts and arms otherwise."

"My apologies, Your Highness," I hear from behind me, and I turn around to see that Sir Willard has just stepped through the spell's boundary. Apparently, his own speech had been very short. "Forgive me for intruding, but your 'guest' appears to be giving you less than the respect you are due. Under normal circumstances, I see no reason to disallow fairies from doing what they please, but if he is bothering you in any way…."

I smile at the commander. "He is merely surprised that I am not fitting his expectations of me. My understanding is that this is a common affliction."

Sir Willard nods slowly. "Every time I believe that I finally understand you, Your Highness, you do something else that surprises me, and it only raises my regard of you higher. Perhaps someday I will finally stop underestimating you, Princess." He eyes Veles, taking in his woodsman's clothing as if deciding the fairy simply has had no contact with polite society and this accounts for his behavior. "If you say that there is no trouble Your Highness, then I will let him be about his business and tend to my own."

"Yes, well, you do have a battle to fight right now," I tell him with a small smile that the commander returns as he withdraws. I watch him leave for a moment. "He is a good man. I wish Angielle had a hundred more like him in her service."

Veles nods slowly as I return my attention to the fairy. "And you clearly have his respect. How did you earn it?"

"I remembered from a previous cycle that Myth had to control him with a spell to force him to submit, and that Sir Willard was trying to fight it," I begin. "So, when Alcaster tried to have my son and husband assassinated, I had my father put him in control of the investigation rather than allowing the traitor to investigate himself under the pretense I was upset that Alcaster had failed to prevent the attempt. Since then…I earned his respect just as I earn respect from any other man. I behave in a competent manner, I do not attempt to undercut him, I listen carefully when he speaks, and my actions show that what is dear to him is also dear to me." I eye Veles carefully. "I have yet to decide what is dear to you, based on your own actions."

"And I have yet to decide why you are not treading more softly than you are, Princess," Veles says. "You need me, and I do not need you."

"If you cared about my risk of corruption, you would aid me," I tell him. "If I became corrupt, that would also solve the problem of the cycles…at the price of Angielle being ruled by a corrupt Tenebrarum Bearer once more. My son would live, but my fall would put my husband and probably Parfait at risk for following me." I look over at Waltz who nods as if accepting a grim truth, and at Parfait who shivers.

"I don't know that I would not fall," Parfait says, when Veles looks her way. "Lucette is the only reason I have found any joy at all since her mother…once my dearest friend…fell. I have allowed no one else close to me since Hildyr left pain where there was once friendship as close as kinship. I have faith that Lucette will continue to fight corruption…but she builds practically everything around loving her husband, saving their child, and serving her nation. If any one of those pillars fell…." She sighs. "She has filled her mother's void in my life, but the poison of corruption seldom affects only the one that accepts it…."

My friend trails off, and I grimace at her words. "Angielle would truly suffer under darkness were both Bearers corrupt, but perhaps you do not care for people either low or high if they are not of Cedel. But what if I decided to come after your people or you after being corrupted?" I ask him. "Do you care for _them_? Would Regius bother to intervene for you, when all the two of you do is carefully avoid each other? The two of you do not achieve balance through cooperation, but through evasion."

The fairy does not respond to that right away, and I believe the answer is probably not. "And all you want me to do is to come to the Throne of the gods, and help you get in so you can try to change their minds. You simply want the impossible; the gods take nothing back once they have decreed it. It would not do any good if I did agree to help you."

I shake my head. "I found the rest of the contract, and I will let you see it if you wish…though I doubt there is anyone capable of reading it around here unless you yourself are able to do so. Aside from experiencing the amount of pain my mother did without becoming corrupted, there is one other condition I need to meet to get the cycles to stop. I have to bring my mother before the gods for judgement." The fairy's eyes widen, and it occurs to me to wonder why I have not told him this earlier. "She might be dead now, but she will reset when the next cycle starts. At that time, I have to repair the Tenebrarum again…without killing her this time…and take her while she is encased by it to the Throne of the gods. I am not simply asking you to help save my son, husband, friend, nation, and myself…. The gods have commanded that I bring Hildyr before them, while she yet lives, that they might pass judgement upon her. I need your help to follow that command, fulfilling the original terms of the contract. If you care for nothing else…perhaps you care about not standing in my way to keep me from accomplishing the will of the gods. If you do anything but agree to help me, you will be keeping me from accomplishing their will. I do not have the time to ask anyone else for the aid you can render me."

"I see," Veles finally says quietly, and I notice Waltz pointing a finger behind me.

I turn to see a few soldiers that will accompany me to my surveillance spot, and the clatter of men in armor returns to my ears as the sound barrier is dropped. "If you are ready, Your Highnesses, it is time to go."

I nod, my heart heavy inside me. "I am ready," I say, and we follow the solders to the place in the brush we occupied last night.

…


	54. What the Battle Holds

**Chapter 54. What the Battle Holds**

We make it to the area from which I observed the battlefield the other night without difficulty. Even from here, I can see Sir Willard's troops organizing themselves, clearly waiting...and I know that they are waiting on me. So I grasp my magic, the power of my Tenebrarum that is humming with power so loudly I am almost surprised that no one else can feel it from its place in my tent, and begin to make it rain directly over Alcaster's camp.

As the light misting turns into a downpour, our archers form up and start firing into Alcaster's camp…and they cannot fire back. To make their situations even worse, I search into the mountain behind them, and direct the water runoff from its usual routs right into the camp for as long as I can before I let it go.

I keep no track of time, noting only that the sun moves along the sky while I work. Still, I do not think it that long before Alcaster makes the next move. He knows that he cannot stay behind his defenses where he cannot shoot back while arrows rain down upon him just as the water does. The longer he stays there; the more men he loses. If he heads towards the boats of the harbor, he will have to get past the fort which would more than half his remaining men while the fort fights him even if there were no barrier. If he could have gotten up the cliffs, he would have done so by now, so his only other option is to try to fight through Sir Willard's men.

Growing tired myself, I let go of the rain and it fades after I see groups of knights wade out from behind their stakes, some on horses while others march with shields up, as they move towards the archers. As their advance continues, the archers fall back behind men that bring shields up to form a wall, while another line of men behind them poke through the shield wall with halberds, spears, and pikes. Sir Willard's knights move in on their own horses to flank the mounted Redarms that are starting to crash into the shield wall, and fight the unmounted men. The archers retreat enough that they can see to pick individual targets, and from there…it gets really hairy. The din of horse and man as they scream as they struggle, fight, or die is loud enough that I can hear the commotion from where I sit in relative safety, my husband maintaining a shield around me and our small party.

I let my magic go completely, just watching the battle as it progresses.

"Why are you so worried?" Veles asks from behind me, and I no longer hear the noise of the battle. Someone has a sound barrier up now. Either Veles is just being careful, or Parfait thought it needful. "Your forces will clearly win the day, and outside of a miracle your enemy will perish."

"Fritz is out there," I answer him simply.

"But if none of this matters…" he tries to say, and I interrupt him.

"You are the one that decides if this matters or not," I say sharply. "You are the reason this happened. I would have destroyed Alcaster myself the moment it was safe to do so. This battle would not have been necessary, my sister would never had felt her death, if I could have safely triggered the next cycle weeks ago. And today…I would rather not have Fritz see his death. He…dies quite often," I finish quietly. "I hate it every time he does it. It is something I will never get used to."

"You care about him?" Veles asks, seeming almost curious. "And you still married another man?"

I am certain that Veles figured out that Fritz admired me, that my knight was heartbroken when I married another man…and that even after all of that, Fritz still does everything he can for me even when his interest is shifting towards my sister. I sigh, still watching the battle before me, even though I know that it would be impossible to pick out Fritz at this distance. "There is more than one kind of love," I tell the fairy. "Fritz and I…just loved each other in different ways." I pause a moment to turn from the battle, to look up at where Veles stands beside me. "I did not chose Waltz over Fritz because Fritz lacked magic or accomplishment, but because while Fritz tries to protect me from outside dangers, Waltz is able to protect me from myself. Neither man was ever a noble, which I find irrelevant anyway, and neither judged me by my association with my mother. But with Waltz I became a better person, and better able to meet my responsibilities as Bearer and as crown princess."

Veles nods slowly. "And meeting your responsibilities is important to you." He tilts his head a moment, looking at me. "And if the man you needed was not also one you loved, would you still have married the one you needed?"

I sigh. "One of my responsibilities is to avoid corruption, and I find myself needing to repair the Tenebrarum as it breaks while keeping my child alive when cycles restart. I have to put myself in agony to repair it as it feeds directly from me, making me more vulnerable to corruption. I was not thinking of this possibility when I married Waltz, but he probably is more knowledgeable concerning corruption than any witch that has avoided it. He has saved me from it so far, and he would not have been able to do so had I not loved him." I tilt my head a little bit as I look up at him. "Why do you care about how I feel about Fritz?" I ask.

Veles crosses his arms, and lets out a deep breath. "You know that he stayed, continued to try to convince me on your behalf when the witch and fairy sent with him gave up? They decided to travel further south, to try to contact another Bearer, knowing that there was only a minute chance they would get there in time. And if today is the cap of the cycle, I am certain they have not gotten there yet."

"No," I tell him. "I had no idea. He…has not exactly given me a complete report."

"At first," Veles tells me, "I didn't believe a word they said. I mean, time repeating? I've never heard of that happening before, and surely you realize how ludicrous that sounds. Granted proving such a thing would be difficult even if it were true, but your proof, that the witch and fairy knew of, relied on Parfait's word that you walked into that inn one day, pregnant with the child of someone incapable of giving you a child at that time due to his own curse. While those two clearly believed Parfait, I did not know her well enough to make a judgement. All I was certain of is that you wanted to talk to the gods for some reason."

I glance sideways at Parfait, who is gazing off into the distance, as if she is ignoring the entire conversation. I glance up at Waltz, who stands a few paces away from Veles, but he does not acknowledge that he has heard any of this either. Obviously, the sound barrier was produced by Veles himself, and is small enough to make the conversation private to the two of us.

"And your theory as to why I could use magic before turning eighteen when I was a half-blood?" I ask Veles, knowing that he might be able to explain away some of my advance knowledge of events in some other way.

"That…is what puzzled me," the fairy admits. "The birth of a princess is always well documented, so I doubted that someone had gotten your birthdate wrong. Your mother's wedding vows would have implied fidelity, if not love, so another witch would not have been your father. Therefore, you truly are a half-blood that started using magic earlier than should have been possible. I had to decide which impossible thing, you using magic early or time cycling, was most probable. I had no answer."

"You seem to take the word 'impossible' very literally," I tell him, and I see the ghost of a grin appear on his face before it disappears. "After some of the things I've been through, I have come to define it as 'well, we just have not seen it done _yet_.'"

"Fritz…implied that you were tenacious," Veles admits. "And if someone like him was defining you so, I could only assume that it was true. He is very stubborn, himself."

"How did your promise to him come about?" I ask, curious. "The one regarding that you would meet with me should he best you with the sword?"

"I was curious," Veles tells me. "The other two were speaking of leaving, but he had wanted to stay and continue to try to convince me to help you. Sometimes, the best way to judge a person is by the company they keep, so I kept him with me in order to further judge you. I told him that I would meet with you should he be able to beat me…sword versus sword…and he did not join the others when they left."

"I presume that you made him work very hard for his victory," I tell him.

Veles nods. "Fritz…eventually judged me at least as good as his father. I did not 'let' him win. That he eventually did so is testament to his own skill and tenacity."

"Aside from his skill with a sword, how did you judge him?" I ask.

The fairy thinks for a moment before answering. "He is a good man, though he has a…repressed side to him. He has some deep conflicts within, and he finds his ideals do not match his reality."

"This world is far from perfect," I say, agreeing. "People everywhere have their own ideas of what would make it better, or at least make their own experience within it better. However, it is very common for these actions to conflict with the purposes of others, so discord is inevitable. This is especially true when mortals seek their own benefit at the expense of others. Like many, I think Fritz wishes the gods would grant immediate justice and ease suffering of those that at least attempt to do right by others. However, this is not how things typically work."

"Assuming that you have told me the complete truth," Veles asks, "what do you think of your own trials? Do you think the gods took the actions they did merely to amuse themselves?"

"While growing up, I really never had anything to do with them," I admit. "I knew that they existed, and was taught of the basic tenets by tutors. But I believed that I had nothing to do with them, nor they with me. And then the cycles started, and we eventually figured out that Chaos was responsible for what was happening to me, for the time cycles occurring."

I sigh before I continue. "It is…anomalous to say the least, to suddenly find yourself in the middle of a god's handiwork, wanting nothing more than to get out of it. I cannot escape without following the instructions granted by Chaos…but at least I finally was granted those instructions. All things considered, I was not capable of following them before I was given them; I needed magic in order to do so and the nature of the cycles kept me from using it long enough to do as required. It was why my mother thought my fulfillment of the conditions impossible without my fall into corruption. Her only question was likely if I would become corrupted and destroy her, or if I would become corrupted and set her free. She would have been satisfied with either option…but Chaos knew something that she did not. He knew that if I became pregnant, I would retain my magic making my fulfilling the terms of their contract possible. My mother was a fool to think she could manipulate a god to perform her will.

"I cannot say that I have enjoyed these cycles," I continue, "but some good has been accomplished by my going through them. I would not be the person I am today, without them. I would not be married to Waltz without them. There is no question that Chaos allowed me to suffer, but I can quite clearly see the good that came of it…unless you continue to refuse to help me. My next cycle will be my best chance of ending them…perhaps my only chance of ending them without my own corruption."

"Simply screaming at the gods does very little good," Veles acknowledges. "I…wanted to make sure that that was not your plan. I had assumed that it was when I was told that you had intended to 'renegotiate' whatever deal your mother had made."

Even though it is very unlike a princess, I snort a laugh. "If you scream, no one hears your words…only your emotion. Emotion itself is not very convincing to beings that think with logic." I frown for a moment, thinking of what he has just implied. "Then…if you are considering how I might conduct myself before the gods, you are intending to help me get in to see them?"

The fairy gives me an infuriating half-smile. "I am seriously considering it. I think I want to watch you a little more before making a final agreement."

 _Well, that is some progress, anyway._ I sigh as the fairy magic dissipates, and I can hear the sounds of the battle once again. I turn my eyes back towards the conflict, noting that the bodies of both human and horse now litter the field.

"Just make sure no one shoots you before you make up your mind," I tell him dryly. "There is an awful lot of that going on around here."

…

"We should return, Princess," Jurien tells me. "They are mopping up, now."

I use a spell to see what 'mopping up' entails. Apparently, it is checking each and every body. Those without red are loaded up on carts to return to camp, either as among wounded or the honored dead. Those with red are stripped of armor, weapons, and coin before being tossed into a pile beside where men are working with shovels to dig large holes. Those with red, but that are not dead yet, have their throats slit before being tossed into the piles.

Even with what I have already seen during my many cycles, the sight of this starts to sicken me before I let my magic go to allow my vision to return to normal. I nod, allowing my husband to help me up from where I sit, and start the long trek back to camp.

The entire group is quiet, as there really is nothing to say. It has been a day of blood, and I have no doubt that the one that killed Emelaigne is lying dead in one of those piles as the mass graves are being prepared. But that thought does not quite bring me the peace that I thought it might. It has occurred to me that the archer that killed my sister never knew that he had done so…but even so…he had still loosed his weapon against both her and those that had tried to rescue her when he could have made the choice to join them instead. If he had…she might not have died. Or someone else's arrow might have taken her instead.

I really have no way to know what might have happened, had there been one different decision made by another. _Cause and effect…I am use to studying the effects of my own actions each time, but no ending is the result of only one person's choices._ I look over at Veles who walks just a little behind and to the side of me. _What are you waiting for? This is the last day of this cycle. I am certain that I will awake in the palace my next morning. What is it that you would see me do to convince you that you should help me?_

Stubborn _fairy!_

I feel warm fairy magic again, and I hear Parfait's voice. "Don't make my mistake," she says. "I stood aside, did not help the witches when I should have…and they were slaughtered. If that was not bad enough, my best friend turned to darkness, and Angielle was plunged into war. Do you think that your lack of action would cause anything less?"

"That was the mistake my grandfather made as well," I note, turning my head to see that Parfait is glaring at her counterpart. "He chose to ignore justice, ignore the pleas of those requesting it…abandoning the duty of the king. And he died for it."

"Is that why you take your own duty seriously?" Veles asks me.

"I have the rather unusual characteristic of being the successor of both the victim and the perpetrator either way you look at it," I say wryly. My grandfather had lapsed in his duty to keep his subjects from murdering others…effectively condoning it, and had been murdered himself. My mother had felt the pain of those deaths, deaths of the witches under her leadership and protection…and had responded in committing murder herself. "I am trying to keep that situation from reoccurring, but if you do not help me, I have no idea how I am going to accomplish that! If you take no action yourself, you are effectively condoning my mother's actions, just like my grandfather condoned the actions of his subjects! How much blood being spilt is worth your own pride? There was enough of it, today alone."

A muscle in the fairy's cheek twinges, but Veles does not verbally respond to that. Parfait drops her sound barrier, and we continue to walk towards the camp.

When we finally get there, I see the knight that was serving as Sir Willard's aid waiting for me at the outskirts of camp. "Your Highness," he says as he bows to me. "Sir Willard sends his regards and gratitude for your help this day, and the news that we have procured the birthday present discussed earlier."

"Alcaster's head, I presume?" I ask.

The knight smiles wryly at me. "Yes Princess, and it was provided by your very own knight. But…some disassembly is required."

By 'disassembly' being necessary, I find that he means that Alcaster is in hand but still has his head. I find the man stripped of his weapons and armor, his ankles and one hand tied together behind him as he kneels and glares at everyone, and a bloody cloth tied around his upper arm as a tourniquet…and he appears to be missing most of that limb. Sir Willard stands nearby with a helmet in his hands as knights in a line drop pieces of paper into the helmet before going to stand in the peripheral of the area. I notice that none of them are sleeveless, though a good few of those stand around, watching with the others. And I see Fritz sitting on a rock nearby, watching with a stony expression, his arms crossed against his chest. I also see Maeve standing on the sidelines, but she appears to only be observing the event instead of participating in it. I guess that with her duty fulfilled once the battle was over, she made a hole in her own barrier to come and see the end of what she had worked for.

"There were so many that volunteered to execute Alcaster when Sir Fritz brought him in," the knight guiding me explains, "that Sir Willard decided to hold a raffle."

I nod. My enemy is very unpopular, to have so many men and women wanting to be the one to kill him. And I somehow doubt that Fritz's name is among the pieces of paper in the helmet. If Fritz had intended to kill his father himself, he would have done so. Apparently, he had instead disarmed his father…literally.

Even after everything that had happened, even with Fritz knowing everything…he had still found himself unable or unwilling to kill his father. Fritz is essentially doing what he did last time…presenting his father to his superior, who would then be the judge and executioner thus relieving him of either task. Is it because Fritz has some last lingering affection for his father that he is unwilling to personally kill him, or because his sense of justice demands that the appropriate party do so?

I could see either or both being the truth. And in a flash, I can see myself presenting my mother before the gods, who will be her judges and her final end. Once again…I can see myself in my knight. And in a way, it is heartbreaking.

I wish this kind of pain on no one, especially on someone as good and as loyal as Fritz.

"Why are there no former Redarms in line?" I ask, commenting on the obvious. Surely they wish Alcaster dead more than most, and would relish holding that sword themselves.

"Sir Willard did not forbid them from entering their names," the aid says slowly. "But…had it been one of them that had brought the traitor in, I am sure there would be some of them in line. I am assuming that none of them consider themselves worthy of the honor of taking the traitor's head."

 _Is that so? This is not my assessment of the situation._ I look at the moving line, trying to decide how best to, or even if, this might be remedied.

"With your permission, Your Highness?" Jurien asks, gesturing to the line that is now shortened to only a couple of knights.

I nod. "I think that I will join you."

While Jurien takes my actions in stride, there are some wide eyes and slack jaws as both Jurien and I go to the flat rock that serves as a table, write our names down, and go to drop them into the helmet. But Sir Willard is the only one that says anything. "Your Highness…I would be the last man to call you…delicate, even in your condition," he tells me. "But you cannot use magic to harm a human."

"She can use a sword to do so," Jurien says from where she stands directly behind me as I drop the piece of paper bearing my name into the helmet with the others. "I taught her how. She is as good with one as most of you…or at least, she was at the time of her last lesson. It has been long enough that she might have lost some of her finesse…but I am certain she could still use one to simply chop the traitor's head off."

Sir Willard starts at this, and I can see Alcaster slowly shaking his head in the background as my commander nods. "If Jurien was teaching you how to use the sword in secret before she was…. You never did trust Alcaster, did you Princess?"

I purse my lips for a moment, and then answer the commander. "No, I have not trusted him in some time; but suspicion is one thing, and proof another."

Sir Willard frowns for a moment. "Then…if you wish it, you have the first right to relieve the traitor of his head, Your Highness. His crimes against the throne take priority over all of his other criminalities, and you are the Crown's representative here."

I shake my head. "I am not the only one with reason to want to kill him, and my reasons for doing so are personal. Professionally speaking, in my duty as the crown princess, it is enough that he dies regardless of who holds the sword. Also, I will not undercut you by invalidating the system you have put into place as I have the utmost respect for you. It is only fair that I have no less or more chance of 'winning' this duty any more than those that have already volunteered for it."

"Very…very well, Your Highness," Sir Willard says, and I move away so Jurien can also place her name into the helmet. After she does so, he looks around. "Are there any more volunteers for this duty?" he asks, but there is silence. When no one else comes forward, he puts his hand into the helmet to mix the names up, and summons Fritz to pick one as his name is apparently not entered…and by that, I assume that Sir Willard's name _is_ among the pieces of paper.

Fritz lets out a breath, and gets up from his seat to walk over to Sir Willard, and hands him the first piece of paper that he touches before returning to his seat and his stony posture. And the name Sir Willard reads is mine. I even look around him, and note that it is indeed my name on the slip of paper he holds, instead of the name of one of the knights.

So…the duty is honestly mine. And I do not have a sword.

"If you have sharpened the sword you carry, might I have the loan of Father's blade?" I request, asking for the sword that Sir Willard still has in his own scabbard.

"It is sharp, and still more rightfully yours than mine," Sir Willard admits, as he draws the sword to hand to me. "It is appropriate that this blade draws the traitor's blood."

I take it, heft its weight to find that it is not too heavy for me, and walk closer to Alcaster. I plant the tip in the ground for a moment, and look down at the man that is tied at my feet. "If you have words, speak them," I tell the former commander. "You have only minutes to your life left, and you did serve Angielle at one time. I will grant you the right to speak to me before your end, if you wish it."

Alcaster looks at the sword, and grimaces. "You plan to kill me with sword of the weakling you call 'Father."'

"I would be using Sir Willard's," I tell the prisoner, "but you stole his to use on my Father to attempt to frame him, and perhaps me. As for weakling…there is more than one type of strength. My father leads this nation well because the people love him, and there is strength in a king that has his nation behind him. You tried to corrupt me, going to great lengths to do so…obviously you would prefer that Angielle be ruled by someone the populace feared. Why?"

He smiles grimly. "There is strength in fear. No other nation so much as dared to trample on even the _name_ of Angielle when it was ruled by your mother. We were safe from all external threats, due to her. You could have granted Angielle the same boon. You could have trodden down internal strife as well, giving rise to the same production as we had when Hildyr was queen."

"Before she started using such a heavy hand, that others started to fight against her and her corrupted witches," I deadpan. "She created her own worst enemies, as many tyrants eventually do."

"You could have ruled with grace, beauty, and fear Princess! And I would have been at your side as you grasped what you were deserving of!" Alcaster exclaims. "But you married your own mother's betrayer, and everything changed seemingly overnight! I had such high hopes for you, once."

"I would presume that whatever else you might think of me," I tell him, "that I still possess grace and beauty? It is only fear that I lack to be a 'strong' queen in your estimation?"

"You do not lack intelligence," Alcaster admits. "You slowed me down at every turn. You cut off my 'unofficial' stores so I had not the supplies I would need for a rebellion should it be necessary. You convinced your father to have Willard in charge of the investigation when I tried to corrupt you, and set him up into a position where he could be a viable choice for the knights that would not join me to follow. Your messages in the aftermath of my attempted disposal of your father were accepted as truth when mine were not." He laughs for a moment. "You even managed to put a spine in the baker's daughter. I lost nearly a quarter of my own men during her escape, if you count both the ones that ran and those loyal to me that were killed during the 'rescue.'"

"That 'baker's daughter' was my sister," I tell him coolly. "And had circumstances been different, had you not betrayed your oaths and king, she might have been the mother of your grandchildren one day. But I know that unlike most people, kinship means nothing to you."

"Why should it?" he asks me. "It is choices, not blood that define people."

"I…can actually agree with that last statement," I admit, "though I do disagree in how you applied it. Speaking of choices, though… _were_ you involved either directly or indirectly in selling girls to slavers?"

"They were necessary sacrifices as I tried to save Angielle from that weakling! Coin to finance a rebellion was becoming necessary!" Alcaster practically roars. "You sacrifices soldiers in war, even the lives of levies that had not volunteered to be soldiers! This was no different!"

"She was only fourteen!" I hear another man roar, and I turn around to see Rom stalking from the edge of the crowd, his fists clenched as if that is the only thing keeping his hands from Alcaster's throat. "Fourteen! My sister was not even of age when she was kidnapped, and you…!" Rom takes a deep breath before he can continue. "I became a knight to protect my family and nation. You not only abused my trust in you and labeled me as a traitor with you, but you took the sister I would die for and _sold_ her! If she even survived the trip south, the _best_ I can hope for is that she will be raped only by the one man that buys her in a land where women are treated as cattle rather than people; that maybe she might be treated as a pet cat instead of a cow!"

My breath catches in my realization. Obviously, Rom's sister had been one of the kidnapped girls sold before I got into the warehouse. The manager's daughter had remembered the names of the others that had been confined with her, and those names had been matched with the names of other girls gone missing that had been reported to the guard. Their families had been notified of what had happened to their daughters and sisters…and had also been told that there was no chance of their recovery. Once the girls had been placed on boats traveling south, there was nothing else even the Crown could do short of starting a war with the nations that received the slaves.

And I have yet another reason to be glad that all of this can be prevented. Rom is a compassionate man that does not deserve this grief, and…and his sister much too young to suffer that fate. I hate to think of what might be happening to that girl, even now.

"All to help save Angielle from the weakling," Alcaster spits. "My only regret is that I gambled for everything I wanted by trying to corrupt the princess by destroying her husband and the baby. I should have poisoned the weakling instead, so the nation would have a ruler of _some_ strength. Angielle may not fear the princess as they feared her mother, but it does respect her." His eyes leave Rom to turn to me. "For you to rule Angielle with the nation respecting you…that is the next best thing," he admits. "I am not sure that it would without the efforts you took against me…so I will have to be satisfied with that as the result of my life. I can only hope that day comes soon."

"And I hope it is far away," I say meeting his eyes, before I glance down at the sword I am still holding before my eyes flicker back up to Rom. The sleeveless knight stands, his fists clenched in fury and his eyes wide in horror. I can only imagine that he is thinking of what his young sister is suffering as he finds that the commander that he had once trusted is responsible for it. And I find that there is something that I must do.

I pass by Alcaster, still holding the sword, to where Rom stands. I lift it carefully by the guard, presenting Rom with the pommel. "You have as much right to take his head as I have," I tell the man. "You have the same reason that I do; for the love of a sister. I have no doubt that you are as likely to see your sister alive again as I am to see mine…and all things considered, her fate was worse than Emelaigne's."

Rom turns to me, stunned. "Princess, I…." He falls to his knees before me. "I have no right to intrude on what you have won. I am unworthy of relieving that maggot of his head."

"If your name was not entered," I ask him, "how would you know that your name would not have been drawn instead of mine? And if I had thought you unworthy of this duty, I would not have offered it to you." I am quiet for a moment, as he does not respond. "You made my sister's final moments as happy as they could have been, even if was in the stead of another man. For that, you have my gratitude; for that you have my thanks."

"Then…then…if you so command, Your Highness?" Rom says, a small tremor in his voice as he rises before me to tentatively place his hand on the pommel of my father's sword.

"If it is a command you want," I tell him, "you have it. Execute Alcaster." And Rom wastes no time in taking the sword from me, and I take a few steps back away from his target.

"You are quite the politician, aren't you?" is the last thing Alcaster says, addressing me directly before Rom raises the sword, and removes the traitor's head. And that blood spatters everywhere, some of it landing on the skirt of my dress. Rom bows before me, thanking me before he returns the sword to Sir Willard. And I know that Alcaster was correct; I am behaving as a politician in this. I am allowing the sleeveless to redeem themselves. Since one of them took Alcaster's head, they all can now hold up their own heads again. I have strengthened the Order of Caldira, healing it with Alcaster's blood.

I have forced my enemy to serve me in his death, by his death.

Without another word, I return to my party, and they follow me a short distance away, still within sight of the crowd and someone puts up another sound barrier again. I am wondering if I am spending more than half of my time, trying not to be heard. Maeve follows after me, and curtsies to me as she approaches. Fritz has risen from his seat, and walks directly behind her.

"Bearer," she greets me. "That was…. The other soldiers might accept the sleeveless back more readily after that display."

I shrug. "It was the right thing to do. And…and thank you for your own efforts in this matter."

"It was worth all the work, just to be able to live as a witch without being feared or shunned for it," she answers, "let alone accomplishing what we did."

"I keep forgetting that witches are normally shunned by humans, here," Veles admits, and Maeve glares at him.

"I do not know how _anyone_ could forget about that," Maeve bites, before turning to me. "Bearer, the gods help me, but I have no idea what you need this misanthrope of a fairy for. The danger appears to be past, now."

I shake my head. "There…is an even greater danger to Angielle, one that will make the battle and the sacrifices of this day irrelevant if he decides not to help me."

Her mouth drops open, her cheeks paling as she turns to face Veles. "But…but…something _more_ dangerous than a man that tried to corrupt you, assassinate your father, and start a civil war!"

"You gave your chance for vengeance to another," Veles says, looking a bit impressed. "I assume that your name was actually on the slip of paper that was drawn?"

"It was," I answer. "And it was the opportunity to dispense justice that I gave. Rom was deserving of it."

"Vengeance and justice sometimes require the same actions, and only the motivation behind the actions tells which it is. Mixing them up was your mother's mistake, but you rose above that just now. You are in no way the villain of a Bearer that your mother was," Veles decides, "any more than you are the passive and negligent ruler your father is and your grandfather was. You managed to wrap a potential civil war up with the least damage to your nation and population possible, something your father would have been incapable of. Therefore, I agree, fellow Bearer, to meet you at the Throne of the gods, and aid you in gaining entry to their city. I will set forth at the start of the next cycle with all reasonable haste, and I will go with you as you petition the gods themselves."

And everything in me practically becomes limp in relief, and I feel my husband steadying me from behind me. "I accept your pledge," I say quietly, hardly daring to believe what just happened. It is done, it is all in readiness. I can now go to sleep, confidant that I will finally have my chance to end this all. The faces of my companions also relax, Fritz's in particular, tension releasing like rain falling off of a roof…with one exemption.

"You need to petition the _gods_ themselves?!" Maeve practically squeaks in a voice I have never heard from her before.

"Don't worry, Maeve," I say. "It is possible now, and everything can be put to rights again." I turn to Veles, overlooking that Maeve's mouth is now working silently as she is unable to get whatever she is saying out of it. "Thank you, ever so much."

Veles nods at me. "Just try to ensure that you meet the rest of the measure. I assume that you _are_ still deficient?"

"Yes," I admit, "but I am certain that I am less so today than I was yesterday."

The fairy gives me a wry smile. "Sometimes Lucette, delays can be a good thing. We don't always plan them that way, but where would we all be if I was not the skeptic that I am?"

And I find that he is not wrong in that. If he had not delayed, the Tenebrarum would not be in as good of a shape as it currently is. Who knows what might happen if I would have had to keep working on the Tenebrarum longer than would be necessary due to these events? On another note, I know that my sister suffered, but now Fritz and I know what she is capable of becoming and I know that he admires strength. I know that I will have to tell him about these events, but perhaps because of them Fritz might decide that he might be interested in her.

Perhaps Emelaigne would not mind knowing that she had suffered so, if it meant that Fritz decided that he could love her. I do have the feeling that she will be shocked when I tell her what she is capable of.

The rest of the day passes in a flash, and before I know it, I am in my husband's arms on the cot in the small tent when we retire for the evening after making a small bet with Parfait concerning Delora. I find that I cannot wait to see her reaction to what I tell her when I get up that first morning, after finding her on my shelf one last time.

One final time. After this, I will never find Delora on my shelf again.

"This is it," I tell my husband. "You will be waking in the Marchen, and I in the palace in the morning."

"And you will undoubtedly will be hungry," he tells me, smiling, "without me there to run to the kitchen for you in the middle of the night."

"That's highly possible," I admit, but then I squeeze my arms around his, as he holds me. "But I wish…" I trail off in a sigh.

"You wish what?" he asks me.

"You will probably remember much more of this cycle when you wake this time than the last," I tell him. "But you will likely only remember what your senses told you again, and not your heart, once more."

"But this time I will remember that I fell desperately in love with you," he tries to comfort me.

I look up towards where the Tenebrarum hums, engorged and stronger than I have ever seen it, near the wall of the tent. It practically ripples with power…power it will need to use to protect our son. "Even if the damage is less, I will still have to work fixing it while we travel," I remind him. "There will be less time to do so, as we should reach our destination mid-way through a regular cycle…though in theory, I could continue to fix it after we arrive. I just somehow doubt that it will be that easy. I am going to need your love and support as I make repairs again, and much faster than you granted it this last time. I…I wish that you would be able to remember how you feel."

He sighs. "I have told you before, that you will always have what you need of me. That has not changed about me, and will not change during the transition. I will do my very best to ensure that I am meeting your needs. Just be sure to let me know what you need from me."

"But I do not want you to be giving me anything you are…uncomfortable with, either," I say. He both stokes and satisfies fires that burn within me, but it is something very personal to be sharing with another. And the look of gentle love I see in his eyes every morning that we wake up together that remains there throughout the day, the way that does everything he can to take care of me with such tender attentions...I am not sure how I will cope without that.

I know of no better feeling than the love I feel for my husband, knowing that he loves me. I know of no other thought that helps me bear my worry and pain. It makes fighting through it worth it, knowing that Waltz is there with me.

"And nothing would make me more 'uncomfortable' than losing you to darkness," my husband tells me, "especially when we are so close to the end of this. We both know that you will be at risk again, as you try to fulfil the measure on that knife and repair the Tenebrarum again."

"There is that," I admit, quietly. I do not want him to have to make sacrifices for my sake…but on the other hand, we both know that if I fell to corruption, that nothing would rip him apart more. My husband considers any personal sacrifices he might have to make more than worth their price.

And then I know; he has decided to love me. He will remember these words, remember that he has promised to do his best to meet my needs. Even if his heart is not racing for me when we meet next, when we touch next, he will still purposefully make mine race if that is what I need of him.

And then I realize something else. Love is not just a feeling—emotions and excitement shared between two people. It is a commitment, to never leave, to always try to meet the needs of another person, to put someone else first even at your own expense. It is what Waltz gave me during the cycle with him in which unspeakable tragedy occurred. I could give him nothing, and he still betrayed everything he was simply to remain near me.

Love is not a burning fire, both easily lit and easily smothered. It is unrelenting devotion, and that is what my husband is offering me now. And I cannot help but smile. "Have I told you lately about how much I love you, that I know that there is no way I could do this without you? Of how much I need you in my life?"

"Not recently, no, my lovely wife," Waltz replies, whispering into my ear. "And I never tire of hearing it."

I laugh softly as I roll over so I can see his face in the soft light the Tenebrarum casts. "I am desperately in love with you, husband. The only way I can face the storms is with you at my side. I…do not think that I would have a chance, without you."

He gives me a beautiful smile and a long, lingering kiss. "And I love you, my little star," he tells me softly. "Even the way you look at me tells me how much you trust me, of how much confidence you have in me. That's what keeps me going, even when everything else seems dark. I know that I can't fall short of what you need of me."

"You know that I wouldn't think less of you, even if you did make a mistake at some point, right?" I ask my husband.

"I am grateful for that thought, but I would rather avoid that situation entirely," he replies.

When I finally start drifting off to sleep, knowing that I have a busy day ahead of me, a very small someone decides he has had enough rest for the night and starts kicking. I moan softly, wishing my baby had not developed this annoying habit of waking me just as I start to go to sleep. My eyes flutter open for a moment, resting on my glowing Crystallum before closing once more.

I just let him kick, rolling over so he will not wake up his father as well. But I am happy that the baby is able to kick, that I will still be able to feel him doing so after I wake tomorrow.

For now, he will live.


	55. And Around Again, One Last Time

**Chapter 55. And Around Again, One Last Time**

CRACK!

 _Something…did something just...? Was that something important?_ I take a deep breath and roll over in bed, my mind still fuzzy from sleep. I find myself wanting a snack as I wake. Maybe some apples…or cheese. Cheese sounds good. I wonder what else Annice has lying about the kitchen. She makes very good tarts. Or am I in the palace right now? If I am, I can make a servant fetch me something.

I reach over in bed to find my husband, to send him downstairs to get me a snack…but then realize that no one is there. Has Waltz gotten up already? But this bed is too soft to be in the Marchen….

My eyes pop open immediately, and I sit up in bed so fast I get momentarily dizzy, only to find myself back in my room in the palace, and the doll shelf in its original place. And then I remember what happened during the day, that I was expecting the cycle to reset itself. When I look out the window, I note that it is still dark, with only moonlight coming through my curtains. It is much earlier than I usually wake. _It's happened again…and this is the last time. This is the time that really counts._

Mentally, I am getting a picture of a newly fractured Tenebrarum, and my mother being encased in it as if she is trapped in cracked ice…but not so many cracks that it appears like snow. It appears to be less fractured this time, but then the Tenebrarum was stronger at the end of the last cycle than it had been for some time since I had 'fed' it an entire battle. It had had additional power to protect my son, and I will not have to expend the same effort to fix it as I did previously.

I take a deep breath, remembering that Myth can feel the Tenebrarum fracture, and that he runs down to see it for himself…that he stayed there until breakfast when I start using magic, and the Crystallum starts repairing itself as I experience negative emotions. When he realizes that I am the new Bearer, he tries to find me. Or at least…that is what happened last time.

To avoid complications, I should avoid magic…magic the Tenebrarum gives me in exchange for repairing it at any rate…until I am ready to face him. I need to remain completely calm, or else happy, until that time.

Perhaps I should tease Delora…that would keep me in a good mood, and she needs to know what is going on so she can help me anyway. She will not remember anything from the other cycles, unlike Parfait and Waltz who will remember everything involving my contracts with them, and the other Bearers who have accepted the agreement I offered would remember their contracts as well. With any luck, they will be able to set off on their journeys within the week. I might take as long to settle things here before going, myself. After all, I do need to wrap up Myth and Alcaster as well as perform a few other housekeeping details before I leave.

It is time to take out the trash.

I remove my blankets, and realize that the once loose nightgown I am wearing is a little tight. And that I cannot run around in this in the palace all day, even if I use an illusion so I don't appear pregnant. After I crawl out of my bed and light a candle, the very first thing I do is find my husband's box, and the key to open it.

"Good morning, Delora," I tell my second-favorite witch, who is once again impersonating a doll on my shelf, and for once I am pleased to see her in this form again. This time, I know I can get it stopped, and everything is in readiness for me to do so. As I insert the key in the lock, I do wonder if Delora has been sleeping, or if she even needs sleep when she is in the form. I'm not sure why I have never asked her. When I turn the key in the box, and light flashes right in front of her eyes as my husband's magic escapes the box. "I hope you are up for a _very_ busy day."

If that much magic rushing by her did not wake her, I am not sure what will.

I grab her, the candlestick holder, and enter my dressing room, using the single candle to light the lamps of this inner chamber. There is a large mirror, a few dressers, and my dresses hang neatly on the poles. I set her down on one of the chest of drawers, and start sorting through my dresses. "Now, what I need is something that still fits me. Perhaps something that gathers under my breasts instead of at my waist, hmmm."

I think I see the doll move slightly out of the corner of my eye, but when I look, she is motionless again. I grin to myself, knowing that I did not look pregnant to her in her yesterday, and she has no way to explain the change.

"But I must find something…perhaps this one here," I say, holding up a blue gown I have never really worn. "It decently loose, with a separate belt that can be worn high instead of at the waist. I'll just need you to lace it up for me." I remove my nightgown, put on what use to be a loose chemise that still mercifully fits, and get into the gown. "Now come on, Delora. You know that I cannot get my arms back there to lace myself up." And that is one of the marks of a rich gown versus a middleclass one; you only had dresses that laced in the back if you were wealthy enough to afford a maid to dress you.

I turn around to face the doll, my gown still gaping in the back, and sigh at her. "Now really, I know that you are the witch Parfait set to watch me. You were planning on cursing me tomorrow night…or is it tonight…." I trail off. "You know, I didn't even look at the clock to see if it's before midnight or not. I just woke up, wanting a snack, and my husband wasn't there to get one for me."

Somehow, she doesn't budge from her position, even when I throw that at her. "You see, I've been having a little trouble with time fluctuations," I tell her next. "It's Mother's fault, of course. Pity she didn't die at the end of the war, but I can't kill her yet. I'll have to repair the Tenebrarum a bit so it doesn't disintegrate when I have to move it, and make sure Mother doesn't escape. I imagine Parfait and Waltz will get here whenever they wake up. But I should really have at least one of you down in the secret passages with me, to make sure that Myth doesn't jump me. I have reason to think that he _might_ not remember that I turned him into stone and allowed one of his former victims to kill him, but reason is not proof."

Delora falls back on her rump, and shakes her head, still in doll form, and I grin at her. "I…I…I…." she tries to get out, and my grin grows wider.

"I won," I happily tell her.

"You _what_?" she asks.

"I bet that you would be nearly speechless," I tell her. "Waltz thought that you would remark on my mother not being dead yet, and Parfait thought that time fluctuations would surprise you…especially since I am currently walking proof that one occurred. They now owe me breakfast in bed." Though to be perfectly fair, my husband has brought me breakfast in bed on numerous occasions, though it was much more common early in my pregnancy when I needed something to settle my stomach before getting out of bed to face the day. He really _does_ do everything he can to take care of me.

Delora just looks at me blankly, and I turn around to present her with my profile. "Now, come on Delora. Do you really think _this_ happened overnight?" I ask, pointing to my belly. "This is obviously a result of a time fluctuation…though I will admit that Waltz helped. I clearly did not get this way purely through my own devices."

Finally, Delora transforms into a woman, still wearing a shocked expression. "What happened?" she finally asks me.

I look up at the clock in the chamber, and see that it is five in the morning. "Ok, well, I think we have enough time for the general gist of the story," I tell her before launching into the details.

When I am done, she is still wide-eyed, but she shakes herself. "And you say that Parfait and Waltz will both confirm what you have been telling me?"

I shrug. "Hopefully, they will be up soon and come over. Waltz usually wakes early, anyway. This would _not_ be a particularly good day for them to sleep in. As to my explanation, can you think of a better one? You know that I was not pregnant in your yesterday, and I should not know anything about Mother, magic, or the Tenebrarum."

Delora is silent for a moment. "How well do you know me?" she asks.

"You work with Parfait, trying to restore balance between the Crystallum," I start. "You normally live in the Marchen, which has been open for about three years at this point, to accommodate the amount of cursed that still accumulate after the war. You have a sarcastic sense of humor, you take your tea with lemon, you help Parfait fulfill her alchemy orders," I continue, and then move from the public to the personal side of her. "You think hot chocolate fixes things, your room is decorated in rich colors and dark-stained wood. You were touched when you found out that you were my favorite doll, you comfort me when I cry myself to sleep. You are everything I ever wished my mother could have been, but never was to me."

She is silent, her face expressionless, as she tries to read my features.

"You had a daughter named Loreah," I say quietly. "My mother killed her when she was only ten…you had spoken against Fairytale Curses…against my mother, and she had wanted you to feel the pain she said that she felt…so she killed your daughter." I feel something coming to me in the back of my mind, and stamp down the sadness before magic will result from it. I imagine once more that Delora was really my mother, and that she was cuddling me to sleep when I felt lonely, and the sadness stops.

"You…you know me quite well," she finally says.

I nod. "And this morning, I need to capture or kill Myth, preferably in a way that my father finds out who and what he is. And do some repair work. It would be nice if I could wrap up Alcaster as well, but we will see what the day brings."

"That sounds rather…ambitious," Delora says carefully.

I laugh softly. "You should have fun, getting to know me all over again. I rather enjoy surprising people. There might even be some fun today." And I know that, for the first time, I will be able to tell my family the entire truth. That, in and of itself, is a profound relief.

"Why do I have the feeling that your idea of 'fun' involves turning the palace upside down and then shaking it?" Delora asks dryly.

I shrug even as I grin at her. "Me? What possible trouble could _I_ cause? It's not like I'm the most powerful witch in Angielle, or that I have a sense of humor as dry as yours…oh wait…that's _exactly_ what I am."

Delora mutters under her breath even as she helps me with my laces, and I look at the clock to see that it is now past six o'clock. I get out a piece of parchment to write a letter for the maids to bring to my father when they find that I am not in my room. One should be entering to wake me soon.

 _Dear Father,_

 _I will not be coming to breakfast today, but if you wanted to bring me some fruit or pastries from the table, that would be adequate._

 _I have to be down in the secret passages today. The Tenebrarum is cracking apart, and I have to fix it before Mother gets loose since that is where she trapped herself, so I'll be doing some repair work this morning. And watch out for Sir Mythros; he's actually a witch in disguise that_ wants _Mother loose! Sir Mythros keeps trying to convince me to let her out, but Waltz disagrees and I am more inclined to listen to Waltz in this matter._

 _Anyway, if you would like to bring my breakfast down after you finish yours, I'll be in or near the chamber beside the garden exit. If you bring Rod down with you, I'll dispel his curse. Yes, I have figured out that I am a witch, and I started using magic as well. I found the most curious loophole to having to wait until I 'officially' turn eighteen before using magic. If you want to bring Fritz down with you too, that's fine, but_ absolutely _no one else. The situation is rather complicated, and there's no sense putting the entire palace in a tizzy prematurely. And don't worry if I say some strange things once you get down here; I'm just trying to get Mythros to admit something within your hearing, and have no intention of allowing myself to be corrupted. If a dark-haired woman in a white and purple dress that greatly resembles the last doll you gave me tells you to do anything, do it. She's a friend of mine, and Rod also knows her. I do have a good explanation._

 _-Lucette_

I grin as I seal the letter, write 'To His Majesty from Lucette' on the outside, and hope that my father does not try to read it while eating anything. I would rather not have him choke while trying to swallow his food. I wish that I could see his face when he opens this letter, but I am certain that I will surprise him in other ways this morning. But this letter contains that which is most important; that Mother is not dead yet, and that I am not intending to loose her even though I have the power to do so. This will prime him for knowing the rest of the story, as well as bring him down into the secret passages immediately. He will want to confirm my mother's survival instantly, and if she is indeed still alive, to further convince me to keep her locked away.

I have no illusions, in spite of my chosen words, that my father might bother to complete his breakfast before trying to find me. Even the _possibility_ of Hildyr returning is an emergency of the highest order, and my accusation of 'Sir Mythros' must be taken seriously as well if he is trying to secure her release. He is also unlikely to take anyone other than Rod and Fritz with him when he goes to ascertain the situation. He remembers me as having a less-than-desirable temperament, and would not want to do anything to directly anger me while I am in such close proximity with my mother, just in case she _is_ alive and I might decide to free her in a fit of pique.

My father will try to handle this situation with the utmost delicacy. He cannot afford to do anything else in this matter. He might be encouraged that I mentioned Waltz, possibly believing that Waltz is responsible for telling me that I would be a witch, convincing me to keep Mother locked away, and any magical training I may have received. Father might have no idea how Waltz and I renewed our contact with each other, but if Hildyr staying locked up was the result, I doubt he would care.

As I place the letter on my pillow where the maid is sure to see it, I hear a knock on the door. I pull Delora so she stands right beside me and retreat to the corner before I make the two of us invisible.

"Princess Lucette?" I hear a maid's voice from outside my room. "Are you ready to dress, Princess?" When there is no answer, a maid comes in, and throws the curtains open to let sunlight in. "Are you feeling well, Princess…" she trails off as she turns around, and sees that I am not in the bed. She sees the letter, looks at it, but takes a cursory glance into the bathroom and my dressing room to ensure that I am in neither place before hurrying back out of the room with the letter in hand.

I drop the invisibility spell once the door shuts behind the maid, invert a portal into the passages so Myth cannot feel it, and pull Delora through it behind me. I calculate that we are about two hallways away from the Tenebrarum, and use my second sight to show me the presence of people in my general vicinity. I can sense Myth beside the Tenebrarum, and I do not have to wait long before my father, Rod, and Fritz enter the passages through one of the doorways.

I sigh. "We might have to do this without Parfait or Waltz," I tell Delora. "I can take Myth, but I'm going to try to get him to admit to something incriminating when Father is close enough to hear before I deal with him. Your job will be to make sure I don't come into physical contact with the Tenebrarum on accident, and to shield my father, brother, and Fritz from anything Myth might do. Stop them outside the door, where they can eavesdrop. Rod knows you, and should get them to listen."

"That's three jobs," she remarks.

I shrug. "If you want, you can take the egomaniac psychopath while I do the other things, but I am really a better actress than you are and am more likely to win a fight."

"I'm not sure about this," she tells me as I cast a spell that will hide her presence from Myth, and an illusion that will hide that I am visibly pregnant without hiding my son's magical presence. Hopefully, Myth will think it the cycle directly after the one with our deal. After all, other witches and fairies only remember contracts or promises they have made concerning me…and last time, Mother was dead before Myth so much as ran into me.

He had had no chance to do anything towards fulfilling his promise that he would not try to coerce me into freeing my mother, so nothing memorable had happened.

"They're coming," I hiss, and grab her hand and hurry down the hall with her toward Myth and the Tenebrarum.

We make it to an alcove near but not directly beside the door, and I plant Delora there just as my father, Rod, and Fritz round the corner at the end of the long hallway opposite where I stand. I wait until I know that they can clearly see me, put a finger up to my lips to tell them to keep quiet, open the door, and walk into the laboratory.

Myth stands in the middle of the room, his back to me as he gazes at the Tenebrarum before him. Indeed, the picture in my mind's eye was a perfect match to reality, as the Crystallum appears so cracked with portions of it looking like fractured ice. All of my careful, painful work from the last cycle has been undone—but it performed its purpose. My son still lives, and I ignore his kicking as I focus on my new task, leaving the door open behind me so those outside will be able to clearly hear what Myth and I say.

Myth turns around, and starts, as if surprised to see me there. The door had made no sound as it opened, and I have a soft tread. "Your Highness," he says, cautiously, casting a spell that I can easily see is meant to detect life…revealing my son to him…but not extending past this room so he is unaware of my father and his companions who are probably practically here by now.

"Myth," I say, with just a little bit of a bite in my otherwise neutral voice.

"I can't believe you!" he replies. "Quite obviously, you allowed that traitor to have you, and it caused _this_ to happen!" He steps back to point at the fractured Tenebrarum, so I have an unimpeded view of it.

 _Good…good. He does not remember the last cycle._ "I guess we are skipping the part where either of us is surprised the other knows of the cycling." Myth blinks for a moment, and then nods. "To the point though, I can't believe that you are actually surprised that I married him, considering what I promised," I say as I take up my indifferent, but angry mindset…the person I pretended to be in the palace during the cycle before last.

"We had a deal," he says, sounding almost sulky.

"I'm aware that I made a deal," I tell him, coolly. "If I remember correctly, my exact words were, 'in exchange for my not being coerced in any way to release my mother, I agree to marry her apprentice, assuming he still lives, within the hour I turn eighteen.' And you died again…failed once more. I had no choice but to marry the victor, and I made sure you were aware that I would in the event of your failure."

His eyes narrow at me. "And now you carry the child of your mother's betrayer…or were you aware? Saving _his_ son nearly destroyed the Tenebrarum! That _has_ to be why it's in the condition that it is in! Nothing else would make sense!"

I blink, as if surprised. "Well…that might explain why I could use magic this morning. I noticed that I was not physically reset this time. I can use this," I answer him. "Though…I did not anticipate that it would cause damage to the Tenebrarum were I to become pregnant before time reset. This circumstance was not exactly covered in any of my mundane tutoring sessions. It is not as if _you_ mentioned that this might happen either, or were you planning to tell me _after_ the wedding but then Waltz killed you _again_? All of your schemes turned to dust, just like you yourself did."

He is silent for a moment. "Do I die so often that you came to expect failure from me?"

I shrug. "You do end up defeated or destroyed pretty consistently. Waltz kills you sometimes. Alcaster has killed you before, killing you before you killed him. It's almost amusing to watch to see which of you will stab first, once you two dethrone my sire. I've seen _Delora_ outsmart you, and capture you. A few times you failed her so badly, Mother killed you herself."

"You li…cannot be serious," Myth says, tensing.

"Believe it or not as you will," I tell him. "Denying the truth does not change it. And are you implying that I am lying about Mother killing you for your failures, or that Alcaster…a man with a mere sword…was capable of killing you?"

He is silent a few moments. "Both…either. But that is not important now. Why make a deal with me if you expected me to die again?"

"There was always the chance that you would surprise me by winning that time," I tell him. "And…I had tried everything else I could think of to stop the cycling. Marriage was something I had not tried yet. I wondered if a marriage contract with another witch would be binding enough to give me an ally in the next cycle, and extra aid to help stop them. I can't say that I particularly cared which of my mother's apprentices I wed, so long as I got out of this mess. I gave you your chance."

"And I failed you," he says slowly, "and I had not even told you how to stop them when I knew how…so you gave yourself to the traitor instead. You are furious with me."

"I believe that I have every right to be," I tell him, having gone from cool to glacial. "And what do you mean that you knew how to stop them, and did not tell me?!"

"I was going to after the wedding, but it would have been useless for you to know how before your magic awakened," he tries to explain to me. "And I had no way to know if _you_ knew about the cycles…if this was your first time through, or the tenth. I was sure that you were headed straight to commit actions that would have stopped them. But for the cycle to have begun again…in spite of everything…you have not yet fully embraced your own corruption," he says quietly while looking down towards the floor. "And as consequence the Tenebrarum is so riddled with cracks it looked more like fractured ice than glass, and your mother is still encased in it…still sleeping."

"Obviously," I tell him. "Now, I have to figure out how to get rid of her again."

His head comes up. "You can still change your mind. I know with the deal we made, I cannot do anything to force your hand…but perhaps I can convince you."

"I don't know that you can be so persuasive, you can convince me to give away power," I tell him.

"Are you tired of the cycles yet, Princess? You certainly seem so," he tells me. "You wake up, and it is today again, and you must live the same months of your life over and over once more? Once your corruption is complete, it will stop…and time will continue as it once did. Your mother can help you gain that freedom, that corruption." A cruel smile twists his face. "Your mother helped me gain that freedom, showing me the unparalleled beauty of revenge. I was no longer bound against extracting the full price from humans that had wronged me, and mine."

"And what makes you think that I need her help?" I deadpan.

Myth smiles. "The cycling would have stopped if you were corrupted, and this cycle is your greatest chance to find corruption if you can use magic now! I could tell you had genuine hate, anger during the last cycle…I believe that I remember everything of import between you agreeing to wed your mother's apprentice and my rather sudden death…but apparently you did not take enough actions while in that state to grant you full corruption." He pauses for a moment. "By the way, what _did_ you do after that traitor killed me?"

"Pretended that you were forcing me to marry you," I answer, "asked Waltz to marry me instead so my promise could still be fulfilled. We rescued that girl from Alcaster, and brought that fool before my sire for judgement. The fairy and her allies showed up after the traitor did, and they kept the spellbound and Alcaster's knights from fighting each other. I made everyone believe that that is what I had intended to happen the entire time; that I had merely acted hoping to draw everyone else in to help me, while keeping you and Alcaster busy enough that you did not notice the counter-coup until it was too late. I even executed Alcaster myself with a sword."

Myth actually laughs, not noticing what I believe might be fairy magic from out in the hall. Waltz and Parfait are almost here. Apparently, someone overslept for them to be arriving only now. "Perhaps if you had used magic instead…. You _are_ politically savvy, but unfortunately, none of that would have 'sealed' your corruption. If you ever want the cycles to stop, you need to embrace it. It is not enough to merely feel anger, hatred, fear…you must take magic-wielding actions arising from hatred to truly unlock your power and free yourself by allowing corruption into you once it senses that you might grasp it."

"I will admit to enjoying the surprise on Alcaster's face," I note, and Myth grins.

"I am sure he was shocked. You realize that you had convinced that fool of a commander that you trusted _him_ more than _me_? That you would allow _him_ some measure of power? He even admitted relief that you were going to take the throne instead of him, that it would be better for stability since he had no worthy heir," Myth tells me.

I shrug. "Considering he had you curse his only son, and then you sent him on a suicide mission, of course that would be problematic. Alcaster always wants power, but has rather little consideration for what to do with it if he gets it. He wants Angielle to be ruled in strength and fear, but looks no more further than a few years down the road. I am not really sure what he hopes to accomplish whenever he tries to move without my aid."

"I…think I must have reminded him of your existence after you had been cursed, Princess," Myth guesses. "Otherwise, I am not sure…." I hear a noise outside, and Myth appears to notice as well. "What…?" he says, looking over my shoulder, and I take all the magic I can hold, furious at this worm of a man, and truss him with glowing light to bind his magic. Delora rushes in, and freezes him in place while I draw the energy from all of the other spells I have cast. In only moments, he is both physically and magically bound, as well as unconscious at my feet.

My father and Fritz run into the room, hot on Delora's heels, sword and knife drawn. I see Rod looking from behind the door just as Waltz and Parfait rush past him into the room.

"Did you sleep in, Darling?" I ask my husband, as if this is of no more consequence than having to rewarm a pot of tea, that this is a perfectly ordinary day, and that nothing out of the ordinary has just happened. "And did you happen to bring me breakfast? It looks like my father forgot." While Waltz looks as if he is trying very hard not to laugh and Parfait is still out of breath, Rod, Fritz, and my father look just as surprised as I expected them to be.

My father and Fritz have stopped dead in their tracks, with their only enemy helpless on the ground, their eyes wide in shock as they notice that I am visibly pregnant and have referred to the new arrival as 'Darling.' My father does a double take, obviously recognizing Waltz, but Fritz just stares plainly having no idea who Parfait and Waltz are.

"You talk with Sir Mythros—who apparently is a witch—about how he wants to corrupt you," Sebby starts for Rod near the door, as ironically my stepbrother is the first to recover his voice. However, this makes some sense…Sebby translates his thoughts quite quickly. "That he wants you to free your mother who is somehow still alive in that…thing! You mention Sir Alcaster helping in his treason, you are obviously very pregnant and then imply that Waltz is the father but this is the first time I've seen him without his curse, and then you ask about breakfast as if this sort of thing happens _every day_!" Rod looks up at Parfait, who is still catching her breath as she likely just sprinted down the secret corridors to get here. "Lady Parfait, what is going _on_?!"

I give him the first smile he will ever remember receiving from me, and allow my vision to shift long enough to dispel Rod's curse. "There we go," I say, "now try saying that again, but with your own voice this time."

"You know that I can't…!" Rod yells, before he realizes that he is using his own voice. "You…you…" he gets out, realization dawning on him.

"Yes, Rod," I tell him. "I got rid of it. That nasty curse you picked up won't kill you now. For the life of me, I'm not sure how you can be so stubborn about asking for help with it when it is such a simple matter! You are _so_ obstinate sometimes, but fortunately you also have more endearing traits."

"How did you know that it could have killed me…would have killed me?" he asks softly, his eyes still very wide as he finally lets go of the doorway to enter the room.

"And how…how could you have hidden that you were with child for this long…you said something about getting married?" my father asks softly, slowly as if he still does not know if he should trust what his eyes are telling him while still managing to sound hurt. I can only assume that he did not manage to fully hear or understand what Myth and I were talking about. On the other hand, I am touched that this is his first question. My mother might be alive, two of his most trusted advisors might be traitors…but what he cares about most is me. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I have been having a problem with time…fluctuations, Father," I tell him. "I was not pregnant in _your_ yesterday, so there was nothing to hide. Waltz and I married and conceived your grandson on my eighteenth birthday six months from now, two time cycles ago. The cycles have been happening for what is more than eleven years for me…I'm actually closer to thirty than twenty years old. It is Mother's fault."

My father's eyes drift from me, back to the Tenebrarum, where Mother appears to be sleeping in cracked ice. And he shivers. "Will that hold?"

"I have fixed it before," I tell him. "She cannot get out unless I allow it."

"And do you have any intention of doing that?" Rod asks nervously.

"I intend to drag her to the Throne of the gods, and they will deal with her. I fully expect them to destroy her," I say as I sit down on the cot, and take the tied napkin that Waltz offers me. And then I notice that Waltz is still grinning, looking almost ready to burst. It has been a while since I have seen him this happy, and I have to wonder about the why of it. I am sure that my husband will tell me about whatever is going through his head soon, but I have to wonder if it is something he would rather tell me about in private. Right now it is finally to tell my father the entire truth of what has been happening to me, so my husband's news will have to wait. "This will not be short, so we may as well make ourselves comfortable," I say, drawing an apple from the napkin. Waltz, Parfait, and Delora immediately join me, the witches making themselves as comfortable as they can on the floor while Parfait joins me on the cot. I look back up where Rod, my father, and Fritz still gape at us and I meet Fritz's eyes.

"I'm so sorry Fritz," I tell him gently, holding the apple in my lap instead of bringing it to my mouth. "You won't be able to escape what your father is any more than I can escape what _she_ is," I say, nodding to the Tenebrarum that still imprisons my mother.

My knight slowly sinks to his knees. "It is never necessary that you apologize to me, Princess," he tells me quietly.

"But I wanted to," I tell him. I look over to Parfait, who looks as if she is about to launch into the story, and I shake my head. I feel like I am starving, but of the three, only Rod knows Parfait…and the truth may be easier coming from me than from her. So, I put the apple back in the napkin for the time being, my hand instead resting on my side where my son is kicking again. A late breakfast will do him no harm. "At the end of the Great War, my mother knew that she was about to be defeated and she decided to hide…."

….

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of activity. Parfait gets shifts of witches to guard Myth in a nearby room in the secret passages until we are certain we have everything we need from him. Father gives a surprised Sir Willard the letters Fritz was carrying as his deliveries on his father's behalf were interrupted when my father summoned him to help find me, and Fritz is able to list the knights his father regularly has private communications with. Subsequently, Alcaster is behind bars trying to command his guards to let him out before noon on the first day. Even without what Myth said about Alcaster, those letters were _very_ incriminating.

I spend most of the day doing what I can to stabilize the Tenebrarum a bit, so it can be moved safely, and Waltz remains with me while chaos runs rampant on the floors above us as Father and Sir Willard turn the palace upside-down as Alcaster and his most dangerous allies are rounded up. I think that Fritz is helping them, though with what I read as a heavy heart. But I know that he can recover, with time. Rod was given instructions to take his mother and sister to another part of the inner passages for their safety, and to tell them what is going on. My family plans to meet the end of the day for conversation and explanations, and as much as I want to go see Emelaigne—who is alive once more—there is a question burning in my mind.

"You look fit to burst," I tell Waltz, when we are alone, just as the door swings shut when Parfait takes her leave.

My husband smiles at me as he takes me into his arms. "I remember everything concerning you this time! It's not just what I could see or feel…but how I felt and what I thought as well. You are my beautiful, blazing, shining star…and everything else in this world pales in comparison with you."

And I am not sure if I want to swoon, or faint in relief. He remembers. He _remembers_! "I did not lose you this time," I tell him, holding onto his arms so I remain upright, and then he kisses me.

When he puts me down, Waltz chuckles at me. "I don't think I've ever seen you this relieved…well…yesterday maybe when Veles agreed to help…."

"Do you have any idea how hard I had to fight for you last time, of how patient I had to be for the man I love to love me again?" I ask him. "I…do not think that I will ever take you for granted."

"I have no intention of causing you grief," he admits, "but it's nice to know that you do not take me for granted." Then Waltz frowns for a moment. "How is that possible that it would be different this time?"

"I do not know, and I'm not sure that I care," I admit, still holding on tight to my husband. "I'm…afraid to question a good thing too closely." Then I think of something, and look him square in the eye. "You are not just saying this so I will not worry about if you love me…exaggerating even a little bit?"

"You are questioning a good thing anyway," Waltz says with a smile. "Personally, I prefer to just say a quick prayer of thanks tonight. And I am not stretching the truth in the slightest." He frowns for a moment. "They are all like regular memories, but I know that there are holes where something that did not involve you or our marriage occurred. And even from the cycle before last…I remember our first wedding in more detail."

"What were you feeling, at that time?" I ask, both curious and relieved, as my husband smiles at me.

"Relief that you had not needed to pay the price for your family's lives that I thought you might," he tells me. "Joy that I was marrying the love of my life. And…" he trails off for a moment before continuing. "And I know that I do not wish things for myself often, but I had wanted you to be all mine. I had never seen you so beautiful before. I had never seen a woman as stunning as you were that night."

"Bloody dress and all?" I ask with a sly smile.

"It suited you," Waltz answers me, a finger coming up to brush my cheek. "You are a woman of contrasts. You are strong and soft, practical and beautiful, longsuffering…when given sufficient motivation anyway…and eager, sneaky and blunt, and always radiant no matter how dark it is. You were gorgeous in that dress…and later, out of it."

I smile at him. "It means a lot to me that you remember it now. It was the happiest night of my life, and I hated that you could not remember it as I did. And…I remember you were quite handsome yourself, and right there for me exactly when I needed you."

My husband smiles back at me. "There…there was one other thing. I thought that I felt the whisper of another presence with us when you were dozing off in my arms that night. I…guessed that maybe you had become pregnant."

"You were right," I say, my hand on my belly where our son is currently resting after having spent the better part of my explanation to my father being restless. "How did you feel at the time? You seemed shocked and worried when I told you about the babe after I had found out."

"I was shocked and worried at that time," Waltz admits. "But back then…I couldn't think of anything more perfect. You were safe, my wife, and we were starting our own family. I…was intending to check in the morning to be sure, and tell you then." Then he frowns. "But I never had that chance."

"I had not told you about the cycling," I remind him. "I had hope that it was over, or that it would be if I achieved the perfect ending. I was going to tell you all about it…later. But the night was simply too busy at first, and then too perfect for me to want to disrupt it. And…I did not tell you before that because I wanted to give that cycle my very best effort, and was afraid that if I told everyone that time might reset they might think me mad if I was not believed, or not fight their best if they did. I…probably should have made an exception for you."

"This whole thing is a little hard to swallow, I admit," my husband says. "I think the main reason your father believes is because you are now rather pregnant when you had not been yesterday, Myth's tricked confession, and that you showed him your mother…still alive. I think you could probably blame anything you wished on her, and your father would believe her capable of it."

My eyes drift over to the Tenebrarum where my mother sleeps. "With as much experience as he had with her evil, that does not surprise me. He takes that she might mistreat me as badly as she did him, or even worse, for granted."

Waltz nods, his expression turning from serious to give me a small smile. "Speaking of taking something for granted, though…I suppose we need to get married again, and I am not entirely sure who's turn it is to propose…though I would be more than happy to oblige. And we should probably address this with your father."

"I am six months pregnant," I remind my husband. "He probably already has a Chaos priest arranged for tomorrow morning, or he will as soon as he can sit down at a desk long enough to write the temple. It would not surprise me entirely if he has one show up tonight."

My husband's smile drops, and his hand goes to my belly. "Did Runia's spell survive…?"

I look down with my second sight, and see no magic there. There had been when I had checked near the end of the last cycle. I shake my head. "No, I will have to see if she can recast it before we go, if she does not want to come with us. Perhaps…perhaps that will be enough." At least, I _hope_ it will be enough.

"What do you want to tell people about the baby?" he asks quietly.

"The general public? Nothing," I answer. "I will use an illusion so I do not appear pregnant, and only tell my family and those that come with us on our journey about this. If…if he does not survive, it will not be necessary that anyone else knows. If he does, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. It is an issue I desperately hope we will have, one day. Unless you have any ideas?"

My husband grimaces. "Just one…and I hate it. I'd rather not say what it is yet, in case you do think of another way. This would be easier to explain if I had not been in my cursed condition during the last six months that everyone else remembers. If I had been my real age instead of appearing to be twelve, we could just say that we married secretly. But as it is…."

"I hope he looks like you," I tell my husband. "I do not want anyone to doubt that he is yours." And everyone probably will doubt, even if our son looks exactly like his father. After all, Waltz had appeared as a child, and had been in that condition for four years. No priest in his right mind would have married an apparent twelve-year-old child to the crown princess, and there would be doubts as to if Waltz would have been capable of fatherhood in that state anyway.

" _I_ have no doubts that he is mine," Waltz tells me. "I remember that perfect night quite clearly, as I just mentioned."

"It _was_ a perfect night," I admit, my smile returning to my face. I am happy that it was not something that I had ever done with any of my other lovers; it meant that first expression of that kind of love was something special for me to share with Waltz. "Everything went as perfectly as it could have…even the things I had not taken into account, or noticed until later." I sigh. "Thank the gods you did not manage to die. We would have had to start all over again; you might have doubted me if you could remember nothing."

"Not once I cast the spell to determine who the father was," Waltz tells me. "It _would_ have taken me a little time to wrap my head around your explanation as to why I had no memory of giving you a son. Given time, I would have fallen in love with you again. I did last time."

"But time is in short supply," I muse. "I once had so much of it…and now it is a luxury."

And I can almost hear it, like a clock, ticking away. And I have to wonder, if it was like this for the girl in the original Cinderella tale, as the clock ticked ever closer to midnight. She knew that her gown would turn to rags at midnight, but the worst she had to fear was the loss of a man she had only met once as she returned to her previous, mundane life while I must fear death, corruption, and the fall of a kingdom if I make the wrong mistake.

On the other hand, perhaps we are not that different, Cinderella and I; we both fear the loss of the future we so desperately want.


	56. A Command, and a Promise

**Chapter 56. A Command, and a Promise**

That evening I give my explanation to Emelaigne and Ophelia, and answer the rest of the questions Father and Rod thought of during the day while wearing an illusion that hides my pregnancy just in case a servant walks in on us. Apparently, Rod had given them the most basic version of what had happened, but had still been too shocked to have absorbed everything so there is a lot that I need to clarify.

Emelaigne is shocked when I hug her and tell her how happy I am to have her alive again when I first see her, and of how proud I was of her during the last cycle. She starts crying even before I can tell her why I feel that way. Even knowing as much as he does, Rod still seems a little wary of me. Then Waltz, who has come with me, reminds him that he knew me more than eleven years ago, and people tend to change in that time. Understanding dawns on Rod's face, and he is a bit more relaxed after that point.

Father seems simply relieved, and appears to accept what I tell him so long as he knows I am not walking in my mother's footsteps, and have no intention of releasing her from her prison. I do go over the last two cycles in detail, since those are the ones of most consequence, and answer the questions my family asks. Ophelia does not question much, but is instead wearing the look of a woman who is hoping that she will not wake up from a good dream, and is certain that what she is experiencing _is_ a dream. I suppose she is waiting until she wakes up tomorrow to see if everything that happened today is still real.

I can only guess that a lot of people feel that way today.

We are just finishing up explanations in the parlor when I hear a knock on the door, and a butler that had been dismissed from the room with the rest of the servants hesitantly comes in. "Excuse me Your Majesties, Your Highnesses, but the Order and Chaos high priests are here requesting audience…with Princess Lucette," the butler says, quite obviously confused. Neither high priest comes here often, and if they do it is to speak with my father. I can just imagine the servant trying to figure out what the pair might want with me. It occurs to me to wonder if Chaos's mouthpiece has something to say again.

"But I did not request the presence of a priest until tomorrow," my father muses. "And the high priests themselves came?"

"It is interesting that they would arrive tonight," I say. "Was it just the two of them, or was someone else with them?"

"There…is a young man in commoner clothes with them, Your Highness," the butler admits. "They…also asked if you would ask if there was another person with them, and if you could describe that person before they entered? If you cannot, they apologize for disturbing you, and will leave immediately."

It must be same young man Chaos used last time. Of course, if he had been new to robes when I had received his message last time, the boy would not even be a neophyte right now. So, that is the person I describe to the butler, and he leaves to go to the priests with my answer.

"I…take it something like this has happened before, Lucette?" my father asks.

"It happened the last time Chaos had something to tell me," I admit. "It led me to my copy of the contract Mother made with him. Apparently, he wants to give me at least a fighting chance, and I am glad for any aid I can get." The copy I have bound to my arm still. I did not take it off once we found it in the last cycle, and it reset still in my possession.

This statement, of course, shocks everyone but Waltz. I have to remind myself that in spite of the fact that they now know what happened, in their eyes I have gone from being a spoiled brat yesterday to communicating with the gods themselves tonight…something not even the _priests_ have done for centuries! The change in me could not have been more drastic than it is. _Quite possibly, Rod wonders who I am, and what I did with Lucette…and would prefer having me around to the girl he once knew as his stepsister no matter how odd I am._

In only a few minutes, the two high priests enter with the young man I described walking behind them. The priests bow to my father as the young man shakily kneels, and Father acknowledges them with a nod, but then the priests turn their attention to me.

"So, what does Chaos want the boy to tell me this time?" I ask before they can get their mouths open, hardly noticing that technically the 'boy' is probably as old as I am supposed to be.

"The boy said that you would say that, Your Highness," the Order high priest says, astounded. "But…he also says that he has no memory of giving you any type of a message, or even meeting you, before."

"That is because Chaos remembers it, but the boy does not," I answer them. "If the gods see fit to erase memories or leave them intact, I see it as their business." And allowing my husband his own memories is something I can only see as a gift, or perhaps aid of some kind, from the gods.

"He also said that after you were given your message, you would have one for us from Order," the Chaos priest says warily. "And so far…everything else the boy said would happen when he came to us this morning did happen, including the sudden fall of Sir Mythros and Sir Alcaster. Otherwise, we would never have brought him here to you."

I nod. "Well, fair is fair, after all, and if Order has obtained Chaos's permission to use me in such a manner again, that is their business." I turn my attention to the young man kneeling behind the priests, noting that both priests flinched when I used the word 'again.' They had essentially been told not only that I had received a message from Chaos before, but for this to not be the first time a god has used _me_ as his mouthpiece. They have to be wondering why the gods had allowed this ordinary boy, as well as myself, that honor when the gods had not deigned to speak to or directly through anyone in the priesthood for centuries. And for the first time in three hundred years, the gods _have_ decided to speak to them…through a witch…through a Bearer. If I were them, I would be expecting nothing easy or pleasant to be revealed on this night. Even knowing this, at least they have obeyed in this much, in bringing the boy to me. There is hope that they might listen to me, even when they had rejected my mother's pleas years ago. "What do you have to tell me?"

"That…you should not concern yourself with the Witch Doctor this time," the young man says. "She was permitted to live long enough to serve you last time, but she will be called to the gods' presence through death after she curses the one you call 'Rumpel.' You are promised that if you can get through the gates of the holy city before your son draws his first breath, that he will die only of old age."

And I take a deep breath. Whether or not I can satisfy the original terms of the contract, my son will still survive if I get through the gates in time. But what if I cannot fulfill the measure, and go into labor directly outside of the gates, forcing me to go inside to save my son? Would I have to repeat another, final cycle to meet the contract, but be able to collect my son alive from the gods upon its completion? _No…two cycles. I would have to become pregnant in one, to be able to use magic in the next…unless I am only required to bring mother before the gods once._ At any rate, I cannot tarry in Angielle for long. And…Angielle will be without any healer at all with Runia's magic silenced and her hands stilled, but I cannot do anything about that. I do feel a pang of regret, though. She had served, worked for so long and had not been granted the restful retirement she had wanted. I comfort myself with the fact that Runia will at least be able to see her daughter, meet her grandchild once she breathes her last. "Well…I have a timetable to work with, now."

"Your son, Your Highness?" the Order priest asks.

"The product of a wedding night conception, obviously," I answer, as if unconcerned. "I was planning on getting married anyway. Was there anything else?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the young man tells me. "I was to say that if you find the granddaughter of your assassin before she dies, that she will help you find your way out." I open my mouth to ask the obvious question, but he continues. "He did not give any specifics as to what you would then be able to find your way out from, or further information concerning her identity."

I shut my mouth and sigh, thinking. While people have tried to kill me during the cycles, there is only one I could label a true 'assassin,' and he was not particularly good at it. But I remember during our conversation in the dungeon that he had mentioned his granddaughter, that had apparently been sired by Myth during whatever event the man was trying to get revenge for. And I know that the child was dead, less than four months into the cycle…but I have no idea within that timeframe when that death had occurred.

I realize that I find myself with yet another death I must prevent.

Fortunately, we have not killed Myth yet, but I wonder if he has enough decency left to tell me where his daughter is before she does die. If it was important enough for Chaos to mention, I have to believe that I must try to find her…though I must do so quickly if I want to save my own son.

"He also wanted to know if you liked the favor he had granted you," the boy says slowly. "It was something about extra memories granted as a reward. Chaos said that you were responsible for sending someone named Delora off on an errand with a prince, and he had not been so entertained in at least a century from what ensued."

Waltz. Chaos let Waltz have extra memories, this time. Now my husband clearly remembers loving me, still loves me, and now I know why. I exchange a quick glance with my husband, who seems just as stunned as I am. "I more than appreciate that present," I say softly. _And I would dearly love to know what happened that entertained_ Chaos _enough to grant me that gift! What kind of trouble did those two get into? What would either of them do if they knew that no one would have to live with the consequences?_

It was Klaude. I know that Klaude probably made a glorious, tangled mess of something on a large scale. Unfortunately, I will probably never know how he did so. Delora remembers nothing of the previous cycles, and I am sure that Klaude does not either even though I have yet to see him this cycle. Regius is the only one that might be able to tell me anything about it, but if it is not tightly linked with his promise, he will not remember either.

But the important thing is Waltz, that the two of us have been granted this gift. But that does not stop me from being curious. "Was there anything else?" I ask.

"No Your Highness," he replies. "Everything else I was told was of what would happen, so the priests would believe me when I told them that I had been commanded to speak to you."

"And you have been proven truthful," the Chaos high priest admits to the boy. "If you ask it of me, you will have black robes and an apprenticeship to me. We can do nothing else for someone a god has deigned to speak to, or through…and you had said that you intended to take robes soon anyway."

"But yet, you would not extend the same offer to this woman even if she was not destined to be queen, simply because she is a witch, when she is rightfully your equal, when we always intended for the Bearers to be the equals of our high priests," I surprise myself by saying. But the words continue to flow from my mouth. At least this time, I know where they are coming from. Everyone in the room stares at me as I continue. "For three centuries there has been silence from us as punishment because you were jealous of the gift given to your sisters, of the boon proffered to your brothers. For a time, they served our subjects without you and there was peace, but when they stopped serving, there could only be war as humans forgot to trust them, as they stopped earning that trust.

"When men made war against them, you did not open your doors to them so they could serve formally and escape death and corruption, so what should have always been could become reality. Instead you refused succor to your brothers, protection to your sisters, and the blood of their children is as much on your hands as on the hands of those that slew them. They finally tried to obey, to become what we had always meant them to be as they suffered the consequences of generations neglecting their duties. But you turned them away.

"You refused the plea of the mother of this woman, and it was what finally destroyed her…allowed corruption to find her so she might grasp it as she did shortly thereafter. She believed that we had abandoned her when the truth was that this was all the natural consequence of both you and them failing to follow our direction. And all of Angielle suffered for your actions and hers; you could have made a choice that stopped the Witch Hunts and averted the Great War, but you _neglected your duty_.

"But we are merciful enough to grant you one final chance. If you allow reunion, that they might enter formal service once more, there will be no more of their blood shed, silence will be broken, and both you and your brethren will flourish together. If you refuse this chance, you will be broken and cast aside completely as refuse. Your blessings will turn into curses, your prayers into wailing, and your advice into foolishness. The masses you pretend to serve will turn against you as they realize your prayers fall no further than your own lips, and that you have earned only divine displeasure. They will have nothing to do with you, and you will waste away to nothing as men curse your names, as you reveal yourselves to be not just hypocrites, but heretics. Mend your ways, or be held fully responsible for the blood you allowed to be shed. In our sight, your hands are red with your brethren's blood.

"You have one year to begin your obedience."

And the words stop, and I shiver. Now…now I know what finally broke my mother…what made her into what she became.

She believed a lie. The formal priesthood may have abandoned her, but the gods had not. The gods had not issued commands for their own benefit, but for the benefit of the mortals. When those commands were not followed, suffering was the natural outcome. The gods had commanded that their priests, including those with magic, to serve the other mortals. And when this commandment was neglected, all it took were a few children's stories to initiate bloodshed.

I look into the faces of the priests, and they appear as pale as I feel. "That…that is a lot to take in, Your Highness," the Order priest says, shakily.

"Do not tell me that," I tell him. "I was not the one speaking…and I hope you were listening."

The temperature in the room seems to drop, but I find something warm in my hands. I look down to see two scrolls there, and I use my second sight briefly enough to see a script that flows like the language that covers my knife. I proffer one to the priests. "Here," I tell them. "Obviously, one is for me, and the other is your written copy of the contract…our orders. Wherever she is right now, I am sure the Lucis Bearer has one as well. Perhaps priests and Bearers in other nations have received the same. I do not doubt that you are meant to accept both fairies and witches into your ranks after instructions like that, even though I am sure that my witches will be the ones most willing to take robes."

The two priests look at each other warily. "This might take some time," the Chaos priest admits as he takes the scroll I offer. "It will require much discussion."

"Meaning that you will have to convince other priests that what you have avoided for three centuries is actually the will of the gods, or that it is necessary to follow the will of the gods?" I ask them. "You know that Order and Chaos made the first fairies and witches from their priests and priestesses; there was no other way we would have come about unless the gods willed it. They intended that we continue to serve both them and those that worshiped them formally, but those without the gift of magic barred us from that formal service as priests. If the gods have decided that it is time to remedy this, who are you to stand against them? You have your time limit." And that time limit is longer than my normal cycle. And I know that the gods have also just decreed that the cycling will stop; that I will either fulfill the terms, or fall just as my mother had. And I cannot help but shiver; this is my last chance and I will either fail or succeed permanently this time.

There is no going back. I have no choice but to succeed. Just as there are no more chances for the priests, there are no more chances for me either.

"No one wants to admit fault, Princess," the Order priest answers. "Not when we have disallowed fairies and witches entry to the priesthood since you came into being."

"You have to either admit fault and humble yourselves before the gods you claim you serve, or face destruction and irrelevance," I tell them. "You must decide if you really serve the gods and are really the priests you present yourselves as, or if you only serve yourselves and are mere pretenders to the roles you claim; you have no other options. Are you all heretics or do you actually serve the gods? And…you actually have one witch among the priests, though you do not know it. If you can identify him, and _not_ expel him, I will take care of that dragon in your basement."

The two men look at each other, surprised, and I have to wonder if they will stumble over what 'Brother Justineus' really is when they bring that scroll to him to confirm the translation. "If you hurry, anyway," I add. "I have my own summons to obey. Otherwise, it will have to wait until after I take care of the dragon in _my_ basement." I know of no better way to describe my mother without naming her.

"Yes, Your Highness," the Order high priest says, still a little subdued. "You offer us your mercy as well." And I can only assume by that that the dragon in their basement was cursed by my mother for something involving their refusal to grant her pleas before she turned to corruption.

"Is there anything else before we take our leave?" the Chaos high priest asks.

I think for a moment. "Well, would you mind performing a marriage ceremony before you go?" I ask him. I might as well admit it. I really do not want to wait till tomorrow before I can be officially married to my husband again. On a practical front, if I am newly married, it will give the maids excuse to _not_ attend me when I am going to bed or waking up. While I may be able to use an illusion to hide my pregnancy, that would not stop someone from being able to feel that I have a large belly when they attempt to help me dress. On a personal front, after those weeks when Waltz was gone helping Sir Willard thwart Alcaster, I realized just how much I have grown to hate sleeping alone.

…

It turns out that being newly married is an _excellent_ excuse for several things. This morning, the maid only knocked loudly to wake us for breakfast, and left when I told her through the door that I did not need her services. I am not entirely certain, but I think she disappeared quite quickly when she heard me giggling. I really could not help that, though. Waltz's face tickles me if he tries nuzzling me before he shaves.

"You _do_ love him?" my father asks me the first time he sees me alone that morning, when Waltz has gone to give an explanation and farewell to his young friends. I know that my husband will dearly miss playing with those children, while we are traveling. The palace knows that Waltz and I are married now, and I believe that word is just starting to filter into the city at this early hour, but Waltz wanted to find his young friends before Father officially has the announcement to the city posted this afternoon.

Father is planning to use the same excuse that he did last time, that he had married me to the first man that made me smile. I know that some of the servants recognize Waltz from when he used to live in the palace, and Father had admitted to his butler that Waltz and I had been friends as children, before my mother had separated us. I am sure that the servants assume that I was delighted to find Waltz again after whatever had happened to bring us back together, and that my father had not let this opportunity to get me married off pass as there were relatively few men I would allow near me. After all, my father has to see to the continuance of the royal line.

"Very much," I answer, putting up a sound barrier in case servants are close enough to hear, but my father keeps looking at me as if he wants further explanation. "When he looks at me, even knowing my mother, he sees the differences between us rather than the similarities. He always takes excellent care of me. He doesn't care how hard the fight is; Waltz is right there beside me no matter what we have to battle. Even when success should be impossible, that does not stop him from trying his very best. I…have never been loved like that by anyone else…and it humbles me that he is willing to give me so much of himself. He holds nothing back."

And with that last, my father's eyes drop to the floor. He knows that he has failed me, himself. I was not his priority when I should have been, for both my own sake and the sake of the nation. When he should have tried harder to rectify his mistake, he had instead given up.

I continue. "And before you can ask me again, the only thing he has ever asked _me_ for is a family of his own. He misses not having one, since Mother killed the family that he was born into, and wants a lot of children himself. He has never asked me for power of his own, or behaved in any way not becoming a royal consort."

My father sighs. "So, he is a good deal better to you than I ever was. And…apparently I misjudged him at least once if you feel the need to defend him so."

"Misjudging people is probably one of your greatest flaws," I admit, considering that my father might not have misjudged Waltz this time, if only because he simply has not had the time. He is still probably reeling from the shock of everything that has happened. All things considered, my father is actually dealing with the situation rather well right now. "That does not mean that you are incapable of learning to do better, though. Last time, when Alcaster tried to kill you, you admitted to being a fool. You later told me that you had said that because you had trusted Alcaster, who had tried to kill you, and you had been suspicious of witches when two of them were the ones responsible for saving you. Maeve and Runia had even been harmed by your father, but they had looked past that for my sake." A wry smile finds my face. "Runia seemed to think that admitting you were a fool was the wisest thing anyone could say."

"That…sounds like something a blunt Chaos priestess would say," he admits. "They love their paradoxes."

 _And so does Chaos. I can think of no other explanation regarding some of his behaviors._ "In a way," I say, "that is exactly what she is. She simply does not wear the black robes as she serves."

"And if the priests give heed, I imagine a great many witches would enter the temple and take robes," he supposes.

"It is likely," I tell him. "They could live as what they really are, that way. Those robes may be made of cloth, but they carry protection with them. Humans that might try to persecute a witch might be hesitant to do so if they feared the wrath of Chaos."

"Do you really think it would work as well in practice as it might in theory?" he asks me.

I shrug. "I would expect…hiccups. Change is never smooth. I do not doubt that my witches would prove their worth if given opportunity. What I ask of you, and everyone else, is to give them that chance. And I want legal permission to deal with witches accused of wrongdoing myself. There _are_ some that cause nothing but trouble, but most of us have to hide it when we take actions that benefit humans simply to avoid persecution…and so go unnoticed for doing any good at all."

My father nods. "Then I will hope for the best, and do as you ask. An attachment to the temple would probably benefit both the witches and the priests. It probably is the best answer to this situation."

He probably thinks it safer if the other priests are keeping an eye on the witches, occupying them so they do not have opportunity to cause trouble; that the witches would 'learn' to take actions that benefited humanity. If so, I doubt he is alone in this opinion…but if others shared it, the witches that took black robes would be more trusted. "If all else fails, do what the gods told you to do in the first place?" I ask wryly, and my father actually laughs.

"It is amazing how many mortals think we know better than the gods," he admits with a chuckle. "One would think the priesthood itself would have better judgement!"

"They are mortals, just like everyone else walking around here," I admit. "They have their own failures."

"Yes," he muses. "Just like me. I…I hope that you can learn to forgive me for mine, just as I try to learn to re-pattern my thought processes concerning your own subjects."

"I am more than willing for that, and we both know that I use to mistreat you…and everyone else. I am sorry for what I use to be, but I have learned to be a better person since. And you should know that you did not fail me when I needed you the most," I tell him. "You could have sent Waltz to rescue Ophelia and Emelaigne after Alcaster had captured them…but you did not want to risk his life for my own sake. If he had died in such an attempt, that would have broken our marriage contract…and he would have awoken with no memory of loving me, marrying me, or fathering our baby. I…would probably be quite lost right now without him remembering. I had fought hard to reestablish a relationship with him during the last cycle when his memories of the previous cycle were incomplete, and he would not be able to support me in the way I need him if he was not in love with me. There might not be time for him to have to fall in love with me all over again. I would be much more likely to fail in my current task."

My father grimaces. "Then…then I am glad that I picked the right time to succeed. You have never had more at stake than you do right now. And I am also happy that you found such a husband. I…had always hoped that you might find someone you would fall in love with, someone that would love you in return. I'm only sorry that I cannot remember seeing it happen."

And that last statement leaves a taste of regret in my mind as well. "It must feel like you missed seeing me grow up entirely," I admit. "You were abruptly presented with a more mature version of the girl you once knew as your daughter."

My father gives a quiet laugh. "I most certainly was. But if my compensation for that is seeing you happy instead of wandering towards your mother's path, I count it more than worth the cost."

"I am glad that you think so," I say with a small smile of my own. "I am going to be much too busy to bother to pretend to be what I once was, and slowly change for the better just so everyone can be less shocked. As far as I am concerned, everyone can just blame Waltz for my sudden change in temperament."

"I do have one question," my father asks, frowning. "I had heard that your mother had cursed him, and Rod mentioned something about this was the first time he had seen Waltz without his curse when we were all in the laboratory. What was that curse?"

"Peter Pan," I say. "He reverted to the body he had had when he was about twelve years old, and never grew in the four years in which he was cursed."

My father nods grimly. "You realize what this means, concerning your child? No one will believe the truth of the situation. You might have been able to say that you had married in secret and hidden the pregnancy…if Waltz had been in a condition in which he would have been able to give you a child. Everyone will assume that there is no way Waltz could be the father of your child, meaning that the baby was illegitimate, and there will be…legal consequences concerning the baby's inheritance rights to the throne."

I take a deep breath, remembering a lesson in law, from more than a decade ago. The law had actually come as a consequence of when a crown princess had been forced by one of her father's enemies who had wanted his own child on the throne of Angielle as revenge for something. This had happened more than a century ago, and the reigning king had made the law while his daughter was pregnant by his enemy in response. The heir to the throne had to be conceived within a legal marriage. However, it had become a moot point when the poor girl had died in childbirth, and the child had not survived either. "I have been so worried about getting these cycles stopped, worried about his survival, I have not really given much thought concerning the baby's rights."

And then I realize that there would be more personal consequences as well, and not just for Waltz, the baby, and I. Everyone will wonder who the father of my child really was…and I know that most will assume that it had been Fritz, just as Parfait had at first. Fritz and Rod had been the only young men that I let anywhere near me on a consistent basis, but it would be far more plausible to believe that the father of my child was my knight instead of my stepbrother. And I know that such a scandal would continue to affect my family in further ways. For example, how easy would it be for my father to give Emelaigne's hand in marriage to Fritz if everyone thought that Fritz was already the father of _my_ child? Would people assume that my sister had been given to Fritz as a bribe to maintain his silence, and not claim his child because Father thought him unsuitable to be the prince consort? With Alcaster being proven a traitor it would be easy to believe that, even though Fritz had essentially turned his father in by giving the king those incriminating letters, that my father still thought Fritz unfit to be the prince consort. This could have terrible consequences for my knight and my sister if they decided that they did want a future together.

"I will need to hide his birth completely," I whisper in realization. "Find a way to make it appear that he was born later."

My father is silent for a moment. "You will give birth when you are far from here. The birth could be hidden, in that case. Is…is there a way to keep the baby in stasis once he is born like you said that witch did for me after Alcaster stuck a sword in me? When you have another, you could just take this baby out of stasis and pretend that you had twins. If you have a doctor that you trust absolutely, it could work. Otherwise, you could put the baby into stasis, just stay out of Angielle, take him out of stasis nine months from now, and _then_ come home."

My breath catches, while I consider this. It could work. Chevalier would know the entire truth, and I am certain he would be willing to say that he had delivered twins instead of a single child or alter the date of my son's birth, when the time came. He would keep his silence. No one would doubt that Waltz was the child's father, that the baby was conceived while we were married. No one would doubt that he was the legal and rightful heir to the throne. But….

But I would have to turn my child into stone, or perhaps the use of a 'Sleeping Beauty' type of a spell would be better to keep him both from aging, as well as unconscious to keep the time without him having interaction damage him like it did Myth. The isolation had driven Myth insane, and I do not want to risk that this would harm my child as well. And…and I would have only hours with my child at best before I needed to curse my baby. There would be long, painful months until I could hold my child, gaze into his eyes again.

"I will have to talk to Waltz about this," I say, already knowing the choice I would make. I would willingly suffer for my son's benefit…and the benefit for the rest of my family. Waltz…. _Waltz will be a basket case. I would have to be the rock for him that he has been for me, comforting him while I am in pain myself. But then…that is exactly what he has been doing for me. I can only imagine how much pain it puts him into, to see me in pain, and yet he does not burden me with it._ "It might be the only option we have…but you realize that this would mean that I would be unable to get rid of the Fairytale Curse itself until after I could reveal my son. I could continue to remove individual curses, but those with no way to get to me would suffer until then."

"I do not like it either," my father admits. "But sometimes, we have to do things we would rather not. With what you will be doing for the people of Angielle by…disposing of Hildyr…it is not unreasonable that they continue to carry burdens for your benefit."

And a list of things that I have already done, fitting the description of things I would not have otherwise done given better alternatives, starts to build in my head. "Of course."

And I also note that my father considers this more important than freeing all of his subjects from the Fairytale Curses. It is one of those situations when his duties as father, grandfather, and king are so intermingled, that they cannot be separated. The king's justice demands that the true heir be given his proper legal status, and love that his grandson not be considered a bastard especially when he is no such thing. He also wants his subjects to be free from their curses as soon as possible…but rationalizes that it is not unfair for them to continue to suffer a while longer in order to protect me and my son while I am working to rid Angielle of its greatest threat. And I cannot disagree with that assessment.

"I…just wish…." I sigh. "I have worked, suffered so much just so we could keep this child, and knowing that it still will not be over once he arrives…."

"I'm sorry, Lucette," my father says gently. "I wish that I could think of a better way. I'm sure that this will be more than difficult on you, and on your husband as well. I do not want to add to your burdens, but…."

"But sometimes there is no other choice," I finish, dreading telling my husband about this idea.

That evening when we retire, it is just as difficult of a discussion as I thought it would be. My husband bursts into tears when I tell him of my father's idea, and I hold him as he weeps while I am more than misty-eyed myself. When his tears finally fade, he admits that it was the idea he had thought of that as well, but had not mentioned it to me in the hope that I might find a better way. In my mind, I see the image of the two of us sneaking down to the laboratory, simply to see and touch our infant son who is unable to respond to us due to a curse…for months on end.

And that is the best case scenario. That is assuming that I can fill the measure of pain on the knife, that my mother is destroyed after we get in to go to the Throne, and that my party returns safely. I do not know if I will be able to stay away from Angielle for the entire nine months, or if my duties will call me back faster than that. If something comes up so I am unable to stay away, we will have to take the longer option of passing our son off as a twin when a second child arrives. Even if everything goes perfectly…the pain might not stop until I bear another baby.

And I wish the pain would just end, or at the very least, that the end would be in sight.

"You do know that at least now we are talking about what to do once he is born, rather than discussing his potential for survival?" my husband says, as he holds me while we try to go to sleep.

" _If_ we get there in time, he will survive," I note.

"I am sure that we will," Waltz whispers, and I hold onto that thought as I drift off to sleep.


	57. The 'To Do' List

**Chapter 57. The 'To Do' List**

The next morning, I notice that the servants are looking at Waltz with something like awe, as they only see the ice princess suddenly transformed into a smiling, apparently happy…though very busy…young woman. I offer no further reason to explain my change, and they do not question a good thing perhaps for fear that it would disappear if they did. Still, I remain busy using every waking moment to check things off of my to-do list before I leave the city.

My father and I have a quick chat after breakfast and visit the vault before the true work of the day begins. My father agrees to have what I need for my plans today in readiness by the time I return at around lunch. Waltz and I meet with Delora and Parfait in the Marchen's private dining room, and give Delora the gold my father has given us for the journey. I am not trusting Parfait with our funds for obvious reasons, and Delora agrees to get everything needful together. I also give her a notice from my father that allows us any horses we want from the Crown's or the military's stables, and of the people that I believe will come with us. I remind Parfait to have the knights on the lookout for Chevalier, as they normally find him during their rounds tonight.

Delora fetches Maeve for me, and I explain to her about the slavers and thefts that I had uncovered through my own devices, and that I thought it would help relations between witches and humans if a witch put an end to it. I tell her that my father is allowing me to conduct an 'experiment' to see if my information was correct, and I give her careful instructions as to how the girls may be found. When she asks why her, I tell her that I knew that she had worked with law enforcement years before, and thought her suitable to the task. She accepts this explanation, but my real reasoning is that I think that if Maeve cannot have credit for saving the life of the king, she should have the credit for saving girls from slavery. Fair is fair after all. I am certain that Fritz and I will be given a lot of credit for ending Alcaster's and Myth's conspiracy to dethrone my father once the trial is completed, and I see this as a convenient way to give Maeve the recognition she deserves.

I collect Jurien and Garlan as well before opening a portal back to the palace, and drop Maeve off with Clerk Tuttle and a contingency of guards before continuing on to the throne room. "Am I to assume that we are being reinstated, Your Highness?" Jurien asks me carefully as we walk.

I nod. "I became aware that Alcaster and Mythros were plotting together to remove my father. Fritz…came across some incriminating letters, and handed them over to the king. Needless to say, the two of you are considered vindicated."

Garlan breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Your Highness. It will be a pleasure to be able to serve Angielle again."

"You never stopped serving," I tell him. "Even when you were unable to serve the Crown formally, you still served Angielle's people by helping Parfait."

The two knights exchange a glance with each other, and then look over at Waltz who is walking silently beside me, grinning. "I had nothing to do with it," my husband admits. "Rectifying your…injustice…was already on her 'to do' list without my having to put it there."

I am not really sure what they, or the other current borders at the Marchen, think of my sudden marriage to Waltz. But at present anyway, they are not asking questions. I have to wonder if they will attempt to query Waltz in private, but they know that in the middle of a hall in the palace is not the place for such a conversation. "I thank you as well then, Princess," Jurien tells me. "As good as it will be to return to the palace, I think we will still miss being around Parfait."

"No you won't," I cheerfully tell her. "Parfait and I will be leaving the city shortly for reasons of a…magical nature. You are going to be assigned to me during my travels. After we are done here, you are going back to the Marchen to help Parfait and Delora get things ready for the trip."

Both knights startle. They had not expected a promotion to my honor guard. "Just Jurien…or the two of us, Your Highness?" Garlan asks, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

"Both of you," I answer, trying to restrain a small smirk. Garlan is really so obvious, I am not sure how Jurien always misses the signs that he is in love with her. I guess that I will just have to find a convenient time to push Garlan at Jurien sometime during the journey. I cannot do _everything_ that needs doing before I go, and this can wait until later. I just have to ensure that Fritz and Klaude do not get drunk where Jurien can hear them until after Garlan confesses to her.

"We…are honored, and look forward to our new assignment, Your Highness," Jurien gets out as we near the doors of the throne room.

I nod. "Just remember, Fritz is not his father, and he is partially responsible for his father's fall. Fritz should be coming with us as well, and this whole situation is difficult for him."

"We…of course, Your Highness," Garlan says, looking around as if just now noticing that Fritz himself is absent.

"I told Fritz that I would watch his charge for him today," Waltz says. "He was given a leave for a few days, and he was saying something about helping a friend look for his sister, since was free today."

I blink, realizing that I had missed this conversation. I have to wonder if it is Rom that Fritz is helping, and if Maeve will recover that girl before the two knights can. But we are walking up to the grand doors of the throne room. Filing that matter away for later consideration, I give them a small smile and wave them through as the herald announces that the two knights are answering the king's summons.

I remain outside the throne room, but near the door where I can hear quite well, as my father gives the two knights their official reinstatement of their ranks, the apologies of the Crown, and their new assignment to me for the duration of my 'magical education that must be conducted away from the palace.' There is some murmuring from the crowd as this is also announcing to the world that I have come into my own magic, as well as the fact that I will be gone from the palace for an extended period of time. They are also invited to participate as witnesses in Alcaster's trial tomorrow afternoon.

With that done, I return Garlan and Jurien back to the Marchen, through a portal that enters into the private dining room where Delora and Parfait are making a list of everything we will need for the journey. Delora is talking about how everyone will need warm clothing, because it will be getting colder in the mountains near the Throne by the time we get there. Neither woman seems to notice us enter, as caught up as they are in their discussion.

Jurien listens to them for a moment, and the purses their lips. She looks up at Waltz. "Something else is going on as well, isn't it?"

Waltz nods solemnly. "We were planning on giving everyone a full explanation before we actually left…."

"The short version," I tell the two knights, deciding to reveal the danger I will be asking them to assume, "is that my mother is not dead, but is trapped in the Tenebrarum. The Throne of the gods is the only place she can be safely removed from it, and destroyed. We are not telling the general populace of this for obvious reasons." Both knights pale at my words, looking suddenly uncertain. "If you do not wish to help, I will allow your refusal of this assignment…but I do not think for a moment that either of you would decide to ask for an alternative task."

The two knights exchange another glance. "We wouldn't turn our backs on something like this…but how do you know that about us, Princess?" Jurien asks.

"That," I admit, "is where the explanation will get complicated. We are waiting for everyone that will be going with us to get here, first." After all, Rumpel should be arriving tonight. Or maybe I should start calling him Chevalier, since he might not have his curse long enough to name himself 'Rumpel.'

Waltz and I return to the palace for lunch, and he tells me of an idea he has concerning Parfait. I agree wholeheartedly with his suggestion. We also hear the preliminary word that Maeve was successful, with the promise of a complete report later this afternoon. After lunch, my father has an interview with Lord Decimond just as I had requested, to see if he would be interested in the position Myth has so recently 'vacated.' I sit in the interview, and have almost the same conversation with him that I had during the last cycle, and basically the same thing happens. The only real difference is that he is not engaged to Viorica yet, and I think he might present the confession as something that he has to 'get off of his chest' before asking for her hand in marriage. Father has already elevated Sir Willard to Alcaster's old position in court before I got there with Garlan and Jurien, and plans to more privately make Head Clerk Tuttle the new minister of intelligence after he and Maeve return. I had told my father that it was nearly as important to put trustworthy people in the places vacated by Myth and Alcaster, as it had been to get rid of the fiends. Hopefully, with the proper help, my father will still be on his throne when I return.

It is just before supper that Maeve and Tuttle return to give my father and I their report before retiring for the evening's paperwork concerning the event, with Tuttle admitting to my father that even though theft in the warehouse had been obvious, they would never have found the girls without Maeve's help. My father, who knows Maeve as the witch who saved his life, looks at me and nods before offering her a permanent post within the members of the guard that investigate crime should she wish to continue to provide service to Angielle. With a nod from me, she accepts…and I know I have established someone capable of offering my father magical services if he needs them while I am away. After they are gone, my father turns to me and tells me that I shall have _my_ reward for this later tonight…and I can only smile and nod having no idea what he is planning. After all, this has not happened before.

After all these years, I find that more than a little strange. I am use to being able to predict what will happen, who I will interact with, and what they will say…especially in the first few days of the cycle. In a way, it is both foreign and wonderful that I cannot.

I consider it reward enough that Rom's sister was recovered this time. I see Rom and Fritz standing together, where they were waiting outside for the chance to thank Maeve once she had finished with her duties. Practically attached to Rom is a short blond girl with large blue eyes, and I cannot help but smile as I walk past them as the two men bow and the girl curtsies. Rom may not remember that I told him that he was as likely to see his sister alive again as I was to see mine…but I remember, and am glad that the young girl was spared her previous fate.

It is after supper that my father summons me, my husband, Tuttle, Decimond, and Willard to go into the secret passages beneath the palace. Of course, the sudden promotions surprised the three men as much as Alcaster's and Myth's sudden downfall did. They are even more surprised at what my father shows them now as we enter my mother's former laboratory, and they see her trapped in the Crystallum.

Father explains to them that I was the one that came upon the plot to depose him, had set Fritz on a course to find physical evidence, and had orchestrated Alcaster's and Myth's ruin while pretending that I was nothing but the ice princess everyone thought I was. Father also tells them that opposed to leaving for my education, I will actually be leaving with the Lucis Bearer on a mission to safely dispose of Hildyr.

I have never heard such fervent wishes for my success. And I am glad that Father decided to show them this, realizing that this is how my father chose to reward me for stabilizing our kingdom. He has given these three men excellent reason to respect me, my abilities, and debunked my old reputation. When I thank my father for it after his new advisory council leaves, he says that it was the least he could do for me, and that I deserved it and more. Even if the rest of Angielle remains ignorant of what I have done for them, at least the men likely to be my own advisors one day will have some idea of what they truly owe me. They will have ample reason to give me both their high regard, and their loyalty. He has made my own future reign that much easier.

The rest of the evening I give to my family. I have a private conversation with Rod concerning Viorica, tell him about what he had decided to do concerning her last time, and about how she had responded upon learning the truth. He is quiet for most of it, but acknowledges that it sounds like something he might do given those circumstances. I am able to tell him that Decimond really does love her, that he is ready to give Viorica everything she wants in a marriage relationship, and Rod says that he realizes that he is not there quite yet. He asks me how I can be ready for everything Waltz wants when I am only a year older than him myself, and then I remind him that I am actually about twenty-eight or twenty-nine. I am really older than Waltz.

Rod admits that he keeps forgetting about that, and that this all still sounds more than odd to him. I cannot say that I blame him for that, under the circumstances. This situation _is_ highly irregular, and sometimes it takes Rod a while to wrap his mind around things.

I do not mention, nor do I ever intend to mention, that he was among my lovers during the time cycles. It would be of no benefit, as I am married. At best, I would be just another woman he could not have, in addition to Viorica. Some things are better left unsaid, and Rod will never know of what we had meant to each other at one time.

It is better that way.

I talk to Emelaigne about Fritz. I admit to her that he had been interested in me at one point, but that after he recovered from that disappointment, he had begun showing interest in her during the last cycle. This encourages her, she asks Father agrees not to marry her off to anyone else in the meantime, and Father agrees. I plan to take Fritz with me on my journey, and let him know of my sister's affections sometime on the way there. I can only hope that the two of them will finally be able to be happy together upon our return. My sister has a gentle strength about her that I think he could come to admire. When she thanks me, I simply tell her that all I want is for both her and Fritz to be able to find the kind of joy my husband and I experience.

Now, days after the initial shock, Ophelia no longer looks dazed, finally accepting what she sees around her as a wonderful reality. I do ensure she realizes that my situation is still a precarious one as I once again explain my tasks and what they entail. Still, she simply smiles and tells me that she is simply happy that I have stopped the tragedy we would all have had to face had Myth and Alcaster been allowed to carry out their plans, and that I am willing to have any sort of congenial relationship with her and her children. I tell her that I care about them as family right now, but recognize that it might take time for them to get to know me again…time I hope we have upon my return. She gives me a broad smile, and says that thanks to me, they will still be right here when I come home.

It occurs to me that even though I have explained things, my family may not fully remember my explanations and possibly were still too dazed to remember everything I have told them when I had explained it all. So, before I go to bed I place an overview of the last two cycles in a journal—fortunately there is a spell that works to put my thoughts to paper so I do not have to spend hours writing it all out—and give detailed information about everything I consider important. After I make a few edits, mostly of things I want to keep between Waltz and myself, I finally allow myself to feel my exhaustion. I just barely remembered to set a spell on it so Ophelia is the only one that can read it, since I can only tie it to one person.

"Lucette, you really need to come to bed," my husband tells me, coming up from behind where I sit at the table in my room. "I honestly do not know where you got the energy you needed to do everything you did today."

I sigh, scooting my chair away from the table. "I was busy today, wasn't I?"

Waltz snorts in amusement. "You got the trip financed, got Jurien and Garlan reinstated, had Maeve sort out the warehouse matter, replaced your father's advisors with trustworthy men, and addressed concerns with your siblings and stepmother. That more than qualifies as 'busy.'"

I stretch as I stand, and present Waltz with my back so he can help me out of my gown for the night. "I can give Ophelia that journal later. I might go to the Marchen to greet Chevalier in the morning, and then I have to be back here for Alcaster's trial in the afternoon."

"Another busy day tomorrow then," my husband remarks as he undoes my lacings.

And I am tired. I cannot deny it. But…I cannot take care of everyone else only to neglect the most important man in my life, and I am sure that he is still in pain from the conversation we had last night concerning the baby. "Are you worried that I might not have anything left for you, husband? Because you should not be," I tell him, turning my head to give him a smile. "On the other hand, if _you_ are too tired, then…."

He double-checks to ensure that it is not too much for me, but it turns out that Waltz is not too tired at all.

….

A brief, magical sigh wakes me for a few minutes in the middle of the night. As I lay in bed, I see the flash of an image as a wrinkled, old witch turns to dust in her bed. And I know that it was Runia…that her healing hands have been stilled. I close my eyes again against a tear, holding to the fact that she is now with her beloved daughter again, before I can return to sleep.

The next morning brings breakfast with my family, and I tell my father that I plan to return before lunch to talk with him and Fritz about how to handle Alcaster's trial. Then Waltz and I go to the Marchen, but Waltz decides to look for something in Parfait's alchemy ingredients that he will need for the spell to help find my assassin's granddaughter while I go see Chevalier with Parfait. He arrived on schedule and should be waking up right about now.

The Marchen is still familiar, in spite of the changes of this cycle. But somehow, I feel as if this cycle has a different hue entirely than any other. Perhaps it is because it is the last. Still…it feels like….

It feels as if I am returning to a childhood home after having spent years away, in spite of the fact that I have spent most of the last eleven or twelve years within these walls. But then again, this _is_ where I finally grew up, after being coddled in the palace for so long. This is where I learned how to face the world.

Adding to my feeling of discombobulation is that not only am I walking up the stairs to Chevalier's room without a tray, but it is Parfait beside me instead of Delora. Right now, Delora is out on an errand preparing for our departure. "You know," I tell the fairy, "it's kind of peculiar not knowing what to expect."

"How many times have you done this, Lucette?" Parfait asks me.

"More than twenty, but it's always Delora that is with me when I enter the room," I answer her. "But she's off with Garlan looking at horses for the journey. And I know what Chevalier typically says, and what Delora usually says, but without her here it might be different." She is off looking at the horses not merely because I have given her charge of the purse strings, but so she can conduct small 'tests' to find the least skittish horses. We need ones that can be conditioned to not bolt or buck when magic is being used, just in case we need to use it in the course of our journey. They are looking at the horses in the palace's and the barrack's stables first, as my father has given us clearance to have any horse we wish, and then will go on to purchase additional animals if they are needed.

Parfait smiles at me. "So, you find it odd not being able to predict what will happen? You will have entirely new experiences once you leave the city as well."

I nod. "There is a certain…allure to that," I admit as I knock on the door. There is a certain attraction to everything being new, after more than a decade of variations of the same things.

"Come in," I hear from inside, and I drop the illusion hiding my pregnancy as Parfait and I enter to find Chevalier by the window looking at his notebook. I might as well make it obvious as to why I want the services of a physician.

"Ah, you're awake," Parfait says with a smile.

He looks up at the both of us, and his face lights up. "Am I…dead?"

"Stop right there," I tell him, starting to feel annoyed. I have already heard that line too many times. "There are more pressing matters to discuss than any attempts at flirtation."

He starts as his eyes drop from my face and he takes in my swollen belly before he glances at my hand to notice my wedding ring. "My apologies, my lady," he says, still with a smile. "Your delicate condition, of course! Let me help you with a chair." I allow him to move the chair from where he was sitting beside the window, to beside me, and then I sit down. "You must not work yourself too hard, my dear lady," he continues. "I am sure that your husband, his own good taste obvious from one glance at your elegance and beauty, would not wish you to exert yourself."

"Thank you," I reply, somewhat enjoying this difference. Since I am so obviously already attached, he does not continue to attempt to flirt with me, but immediately turns his attention to Parfait.

"And who might you be, aside from the most graceful creature I have ever beheld?" he asks the fairy. "And what can a humble gentleman like myself do for you?" Then his smile widens when Parfait does not immediately answer. "Ah, you wish to recline in comfort as well? Perhaps you could join me on the bed, here. There is plenty of room for the two of us."

Parfait is much more patient than Delora typically is at this point. "I'm afraid not, good sir. We actually had something we wanted to discuss with you."

His eyebrows raise. "I will happily listen to any proposition from such a lovely lady, and can think of many that I would be agreeable to right now."

Parfait sighs, and turns to me. "Are you certain?" she asks. Parfait remembers everything directly involving her promise to me much in the same manner that Waltz remembered our wedding during the last cycle, but Chevalier is simply not strongly linked to it enough that she is able to remember him well.

"He's actually a very good doctor," I say. "Or, he will be once his curse is dealt with, and we are going to need one."

His face falls. "My curse…." His curse has nothing to do with flirtation. "I'm a doctor?" he asks, uncertain. "How do you know…."

"This is Parfait," I say, "and she is the Lucis Bearer. I am Lucette, the Tenebrarum Bearer."

His eyes widen. "The crown princess?" he asks. "But…but what are you doing here? And in your condition, Your Highness?"

"I actually got married six months ago rather than less than a week ago," I bite. "It was a small wedding." Well, the second and third weddings were small, anyway. The first one had been a grand spectacle, the likes of which will never be seen again. If time had not reset, I am sure that people would have been talking about it for generations, that it would have made it into the history books. "The details are only relevant if you decide you want me to dispel your curse. Tell me what you know of it."

He looks at his notebook again. "I know everything about Angielle," Chevalier says, "and yet…I don't know the first thing about myself. Except that I have the Rumpelstiltskin Curse."

"Do you remember how to break it?" Parfait asks.

"From what I remember," Chevalier says, "I need to somehow collect three memories and get them to appear in this journal as entries." He proffers his notebook. "My first memory is waking up and holding this. I thought there would be information in here, but its empty."

"You are a doctor," I tell him. "And a good one. Parfait and I have to undertake a journey. She needs tending due to her lack of…vitality and energy as she sustained a significant amount of damage during the Great War. I will need tending because my son is likely to arrive during this trip. There could be dangers along the road itself, and every other member of our party is being selected for their fighting abilities and commitment."

His head comes up. "And in exchange for my services as a physician, you will dispel my curse?" he asks.

I nod. "You actually have a relatively mild curse, and will likely break it in a matter of months without any assistance from me. The only reason I am not breaking everyone's curses right now is because the Tenebrarum is unstable, and dispelling too many could worsen the condition it is in. I am giving first priority to curses with the potential to kill or maim, and to those I will require on my journey."

He grimaces. "And if I choose not to come, and to break the curse myself, if you say it is so easy to accomplish?"

"There is a young woman that works in the kitchen that is also an herbalist, but she does not have your training or skills," I tell him. "She is an inferior, but possibly adequate, choice and will come if you do not."

"And you say this trip may be dangerous?" he asks.

I shrug. "Potentially…quite possibly, but you will be traveling with witches, Parfait here, and a few knights. We will not be defenseless by any stretch of the imagination." In fact, I could almost feel sorry for any highwaymen that try to jump us on our way.

He stands up straight. "And among these distinguished travelers, this young lady will be the only one unable to defend herself on a perilous quest unless I instead offer my own services as an exemplary physician?"

"Err…Lucette," Parfait asks, "are you sure about this?"

"He's actually worth the trouble," I tell her, not currently mentioning the fact that I need a doctor that will play along with my ruse of passing my firstborn off as a twin when I bear my next child. He will be more likely to go along with this if he gets to know me, and why it will be necessary. "You know that we'll have to take Annice with us if he doesn't want to come. And in addition to his curse being removed, Father can also pay him for services rendered once we get back."

"That's not exactly what I meant," Parfait tells me. "Maybe we should ask him later once his mind has cleared…?"

"This is actually his normal frame of mind," I reply. "At least, until his curse starts to become undone…at which point he will mellow a little bit."

"My fair ladies! There is nothing you can do that will stop me from undertaking this journey with you!" Chevalier declares. "I will follow you all the way to…to…." He actually looks abashed for a moment. "Right…where are we going?"

….


	58. Friends and Enemies

**Chapter 58**. **Friends and Enemies**

I remove Chevalier's curse,' and tell him that he may continue to rest until Delora returns…and that he should not flirt with Karma. When she is done looking at horses, Delora will go with him to help him obtain whatever medications or equipment he thinks he will need for the journey. I promise him a full explanation as to the purpose of our trip later, once everyone is gathered. But there are other things I need to do right now.

It turns out that Parfait has not been idle either. She takes me outside of the Marchen, and shows me some of our purchases. She got two lined coffins that will fit the Lucis and Tenebrarum, as they are more delicate to transport in their current fragile states, and a tinker's wagon to serve to transport both them and the things we will find needful for our journey.

"It will also provide you and Waltz some…privacy…as you work," Parfait tells me as I climb the step at the back of the wagon, and open the door inside. I notice that it more resembles a tiny house on wheels than the type of wagon common to traders. There is even a small bed within, though it looks like the rest of the furniture that had been bolted into the floor had been removed so the Crystallum could be transported within. There are cupboards along the walls that are already filled with things like blankets, foodstuff, and cooking supplies.

"He told you how he comforts me after especially painful repair sessions, or you guessed?" I ask.

"I asked him very specific questions concerning what you would need," the fairy tells me. "And privacy for the two of you with some amount of comfort was near the top of the list. I…can guess the rest. We needed a wagon to carry the Crystallum and for you to ride in anyway, so getting one with a top just made sense."

Of course. I cannot ride on a horse in my condition. Horses tend to buck occasionally, and a fall could kill the baby. I will not be let behind any of the horses everyone else will be riding either, as horses tend to kick sometimes. But then…that gets me out of taking care of the horses.

"Who assigns camp chores?" I ask Parfait, who shrugs. I have never traveled anywhere before, but in books there are always horses to care for at the end of the day, as well as campfires, cooking, and the like to tend to. I have no illusions that we will be spending most of our nights in inns.

"I had not thought about that yet," she admits. "The two of us will be busy fixing our Crystallum, and Waltz will be busy helping you." She knows that even if I did not need Waltz to help me put myself back together after repair sessions, I would still need him there to ensure that I did not accidently come into physical contact with the Tenebrarum…and that it could set my mother loose if I did. I am sure that everyone would prefer keeping Hildyr contained, right up until the very moment I fit the Tenebrarum into the gates of the holy city. Once I have it in place then, the both of us will be drawn inside the Tenebrarum to come out on the other side of the gates.

"Let's just let Delora figure that out," I decide. "She is the one that I gave the keeping of the coin to, anyway, so she might as well handle running the camp as well." My second-favorite witch is the obvious choice. I doubt that she will mind telling everyone else what to do as she does plenty of that anyway. We should probably warn her that she has this responsibility, though.

And there has been something else my husband and I had been considering. "On another subject, Waltz and I had been discussing something, Parfait. We were wondering if you might be interested in being the baby's godmother."

Her eyes widen, and she looks at me, shocked.

"I do not know why you would be surprised," I tell her. "If…when…this works, you will be responsible for his survival if you can help me get through the gates before he is born. And…you have always been a dear friend. I believe that it is unfortunate that you have no husband or child yourself, and this is the next best thing I can offer you."

"I…had not considered that you would want this," Parfait says slowly. "I would have thought Delora might be your first choice. She is so much more like…what your mother should have been than I."

I shrug. "We are planning on having more than one…need to have more than one…so Delora can just wait her turn."

Parfait gives me a small smile. "And I suppose she _has_ been cursing you every six months, whether you needed it or not."

"She did not exactly know that I did not need it," I admit, "but yes. However, I've already had my revenge for that."

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you did to accomplish that," the fairy admits.

"When we sent out parties to the other Bearers," I explain, "you thought it would be better if we kept my direct involvement out of our embassy to Regius. So, I removed Klaude's curse because he could get into Regius' estate without questions, and Delora was sent along with a cover as Klaude's lover."

And Parfait claps a hand over her mouth, but I hear her laughter anyway. "I bet she loved that," she finally says once her giggles have died down.

Once my own giggles die down, I say, "I _wish_ I could have seen what actually happened, but when they were leaving she loved it every bit as much as you would think. I can only assume that she was able to refrain from killing or cursing Klaude prematurely since I _did_ get an agreement from Regius. But apparently whatever else happened, Chaos appreciated it enough to let Waltz have more of his memories than he did last time. And now I have to wonder what happened for _Chaos himself_ to be so entertained!"

And we both start laughing again. When we do stop, I ask her, "So, do you want to be the baby's godmother? It's not like I'm going to force you to fulfill the role if you do not want it, but if you will excuse the cliché of being a fairy-godmother, Waltz and I would love to have you do it."

Parfait smiles at me. "I would love to. And…I think the anticipation of such will help as I try to heal the Lucis."

 _Which is part of the reason I offered this to you. That…and that you deserve it._ "Whenever things get hard," I tell her, "just remember what…who…you are fighting for. I know that this journey will not be easy on you. Aside from your physical limits, we both know that while I must inflict pain upon myself, you must find joy…and to accomplish the same purpose."

She nods slowly. "I was wondering how I could do that. I suppose that mothers all over the world sacrifice for their children, and if we can get to the gates in time we will win the life of the child you have made sacrifices for. Knowing that you are fighting for him…I think that seeing it that way will make it easier for me to repair the Lucis. Love will work just as well as joy, in making my own repairs."

I smile at her. "We can both hold him; three months will be gone before you know it." We will be able to hold him for a little while, at least. And my smile falls, as I consider what I must do to delay his 'official' birth.

"I could wish that this all was over, that everything had turned out alright," Parfait admits, noting the change in my expression, and I am sure that she can guess what I am thinking. I had previously told her about how we plan to 'alter' the baby's birthdate.

"Accomplishing goals mean less if you do not have to work to earn them," I tell her. _And at this rate, I will never take anything for granted again. Not Waltz, not my children, not my family, not my kingdom, not my power or responsibilities…nothing at all. I had to work for them all._

….

I return to the palace with Waltz, Garlan, and Jurien for Alcaster's trial. The proceedings take the remainder of the day, and I know that my father plans to waste no time in serving justice in their wake. Working a little on serving justice myself, Waltz and I spend that evening tracking down the worst of the corrupted witches within town so I can curse them to keep them harmless while I am away. I am also busy that night, moving the Tenebrarum into the coffin Parfait had obtained for its transport, and sneaking it out of the palace to transport it to the Marchen. The very next morning, I volunteer to remain in the palace with my knight while we watch the execution a little distance away.

"You don't have to watch this, Fritz. There is nothing that says that you must," I say, looking through a palace window in a parlor that gives us a good view of the proceedings as my knight stands over my shoulder, and my husband leans against the opposite window frame from us.

Below us, in front of the palace, the gallows had been constructed for this occasion. Alcaster's trial had been relatively short…and one in which testimony against the former head of the Order of Caldira had included the crown princess, Jurien, Garlan, as well as Alcaster's own son. Jurien and Garlan spoke of how they had discovered Alcaster plotting against the king, Fritz was able to tell of the interactions he had with what other knights in preparation for subversion—though he had not known at the time what those letters had been for. The letters themselves had been shown to the judges, showing such things as guards and knights allowing or even participating in criminal activities to raise coin to help efforts against the king, seeking other knights that could be blackmailed, deceived, or bought into following Alcaster instead of the king, and other preparations necessary for a coup or subversion.

I testified that Mythros, acting as Alcaster's corrupted witch ally, had approached me and wanted my aid in supplanting my father to lend legitimacy to the coup…which had happened in another cycle, but Alcaster and everyone else believed that that Mythros had done so recently without notifying Alcaster of this. This time, the sentence was hanging instead of death by the sword. High treason might earn either execution, but hanging is considered a less dignified death, and the judges were not favorably impressed by the allegation that Alcaster and Mythros were trying to bring about circumstances in which Angielle could be ruled by another corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer had Mythros been successful in corrupting me. They were actually considering having Alcaster hanged, drawn and then quartered, but that kind of execution has not happened in Angielle in more than a century, so they settled on simple hanging until death instead. I was a bit surprised that that execution method is still a legal option, if only for high treason, since I had known that it had not been used in so long.

On the other hand, now I know why, during the last cycle, my declaration that anyone that helped Alcaster would be considered complicit in his treason was so effective in getting people to avoid selling him or his Redarms so much as a bread crust. The lawyers and nobles would have known the potential consequences of doing so, and warned others. People simply do not like putting themselves in danger of being hanged, drawn, and then quartered.

During the trial, Alcaster had shouted about Sir Mythros being a witch…trying to divert attention, and ironically giving weight to my own testimony against him. My father had answered that, as the new Tenebrarum Bearer, justice for the witch would lie in my hands. I told the court that the corrupted witch was being held by uncorrupted witches who served me in my new role as the Bearer, and that 'Mythros' would face his own death on the same day that Alcaster did. My father made sure the gallows went up overnight, perhaps wanting Myth dealt with as quickly as possible.

Now, in the early morning light less than a week into the start of this cycle, I stand beside my knight watching the gallows where I know his father is about to die for the final time. I am only glad that Fritz is not watching what would be happening had the judges decided that hanging until death was an insufficient punishment.

Fritz's knuckles are white, his hands grasping the windowsill as he watches events unfold. "I know," he whispers in response to me, his eyes still glued to the gallows in front of the palace. "But…I cannot look away."

"If you wish it, I will pull the curtain and none of us will watch," I tell him, but Fritz merely sighs.

Below us, Alcaster is being brought—stripped of rank, weapons, and armor while dressed in only a sackcloth tunic—by guards up the stairs of the gallows while an official reads the charges and verdict to the crowd gathered at the entrance of the palace. Somehow, without all his normal trappings, Alcaster looks so much smaller. I use magic to enhance my vision, and see that my enemy moves almost mechanically, not attempting to run away from his fate as he holds his head high, giving the jeering crowd only a flat expression. I have to admit to myself that the man had never lacked nerve…just the ability to use it in a responsible fashion.

My father, and a few others, are seated on a dais watching the proceedings. I can only call my father's expression grim; today he looks as if he has aged ten years in the space of a few days. He watches events with his own stony mask, the customary smile that he wears in public gone as he formally refuses the last minute reprieve he could have granted the man he had trusted with his life only days ago. I see his lips move as he addresses Alcaster's lawyer, and I know what he is saying even though I cannot hear. The only mercy he is granting Alcaster is that his property will not be claimed by the Crown as is customary in cases of high treason, but that it will go instead to his son Sir Fritzgerald who has proven his loyalty and is in every way above reproach. We had discussed this privately yesterday. I wanted it made perfectly clear to everyone that the actions of the father did not reflect on his son, so Fritz would not have to suffer reproach similar to that I experience due to my mother.

My father had agreed to what I asked of him, looking more tired than I had seen him in some time. I could understand that look he gave me, knowing that he probably thinks that I am trying to protect Fritz from the same thing my father had failed to protect me from in the aftermath of the Great War. Perhaps he was saddened that I thought it necessary to ask him to do this at all, that I thought that I needed to tell him that it would be unjust to leave Fritz with only the clothes on his back when my knight has never shown me anything but loyalty. It would not surprise me if that fatigue was also related to the work concerning this mess that will not be over even when Alcaster breathes his last.

The findings in the aftermath of the first day had produced a shakeup in the Order of Caldira, and some of Alcaster's allies among the knights had been stripped of rank and dismissed dishonorably. A few were found with enough evidence that they rated their own trials, and are waiting in the cells themselves. Others had appeared to be genuinely surprised that Alcaster's aim had been to overthrow the throne, and were put on probation as dupes rather than imprisoned as cohorts. My father and Sir Willard still have a lot to do, but they will be able to complete the rest of that work without my presence being necessary. Maeve is going to help them weed out the corrupt knights and guards that Alcaster was using to 'help their finances,' and the Order of Caldira should be able to recover from this.

Sighing I note that, even at this distance, I can hear drumming as the executioner puts a hood over Alcaster's face, and a rope around his neck. I also hear the jeers of a crowd at the traitor who had dared to betray their beloved king. I look over at Fritz who appears to be shaking now. "There is nothing else you could have honorably done, Fritz. You did not betray your father, he betrayed _you_ ," I tell him, as at the blast of a trumpet the trap door beneath Alcaster falls, sending him plummeting down, and after a sharp jerk he begins to swing on the end of the rope, unmoving.

The crowd roars, and Fritz finally turns away from watching, his head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut. I take him by the hand and sit him down on a couch. His shaking finally breaks down into tears, and I give him a handkerchief that he holds over his eyes as he weeps. I sit beside him, my proximity being the only thing I think I can gift him with as I lay a hand on his shoulder.

When he does stop weeping, he looks up, as if surprised to find me there beside him. His gaze turns away, looking at my now wet handkerchief in his hands. "You care for me," he finally says. It was not a question, but my knight still sounds a little surprised.

"Of course I do," I tell him. "We've been through a lot together, throughout the cycles, even though you have no memory of them. You are like a brother to me."

A wry smile finds his face, and his eyes wander over to my husband that is still staring out the window for just a second before returning to me…and I know that he envies Waltz. He probably thinks it a wonderful dream to wake one day and find himself married to me, to find me in love with him, like Waltz did. Fritz probably supposes that throughout all the cycles, he was always unable to confess what I meant to him and thus never stood a chance with me. I know that we need to have that conversation all over again once there has been a little time for some of his shock to wear off. Finally, Fritz sighs. "That…that is more than I have ever had any right to hope for. And…and it is enough. Thank you, Princess."

I give him a small smile. "If you ever want to talk about this, let me know. I've killed my mother before, or incapacitated her so someone else could. In some ways, it was not that different from you having to testify against your father." Fritz had testified that he had turned the letters into the king…the incriminating letters his father had given him to deliver to other knights. He had been vague about how he had found about his father's treason, how he had guessed that there had been anything of import in the letters in the first place, merely saying that his father had been 'acting suspicious.' He knew that he had no right to open private communications between his father and other knights, and had implied that he had brought the letters to the king because my father can open whatever he pleases. When questioned further, he merely said that I had told him of 'Sir Mythros' trying to recruit me for a plot to help him and Sir Alcaster overthrow the king, and that I had wanted physical evidence when going to my father with this news.

And it is all true…and so very far from the complete truth. Of course, now the masses give Fritz and I credit for stopping a plot to overthrow Angielle's beloved king. According to Parfait when I talked to her after the trial, Fritz is now considered a hero. The populace is also trying to figure out if I might actually care for my father, am fair enough to prefer to wait my turn at the throne, or possibly even both. At any rate, anyone with a brain knows that I could have allayed any of Fritz's suspicions concerning his father that he might have had. Instead, I had told him of my conversation with 'Sir Mythros.' Everyone knows that I could have taken the throne early if I had wanted to. Obviously, I had chosen to do otherwise.

It is everyone's first undeniable proof that I am not my mother; that they might not have to fear my own rule when the throne _does_ come to me. There is reason for cautious optimism. There was also much shock when my marriage to Waltz was announced, especially when who and what Waltz really is, was explained. If I married my mother's betrayer, I had no affection for her, and everyone has yet another reason to be hopeful.

Waltz turns from the window to face us. "I remember that you had accidently killed her during the last cycle, but when did you incapacitate her?"

"Three or four cycles ago," I tell him. "I found myself face to face with mother, and she had captured you when you were fighting her…and Delora and Parfait were on the other side of her shield. I pretended to come over to her side, and she asked me to kill you." I pause for a moment, remembering that I had been unable to look at Waltz as I had prepared to 'kill' him. "I gathered a lightning spell, but I hit her instead of you. It was at a close enough range that I took damage as well, and Parfait had to finish her off. You covered my eyes, so I wouldn't watch as my mother died."

My husband's jaw tightens. "I wouldn't wish you to have to watch that."

"Nor I," Fritz says from beside me.

"I've seen a lot of death," I tell both men. "I've had to kill people, myself, or ordered them executed. I am not sure that I realized the true power of the Crown until I saw a battlefield awash with blood." The images from the battlefield the last day of the previous cycles are burned in my memory. The battle occurred because Alcaster wanted the power of the throne…and there were none of his men left standing due to the power my father and I wielded. The power to control life or death for so many is a responsibility I find rather portentous. "I…think the last embers of my childhood burned out some time ago. Now…I might want to watch her die one final time, just to know for certain that she is finally gone forever and she can't hurt me or anyone else ever again."

Neither man has anything to say on that, and perhaps there are no words to describe their feelings on the fact that I just want my mother to stop hurting me. I sigh and rise from the couch. "Speaking of death…I believe that I have some justice to dispense myself." After all, Myth waits in the secret passages for me, and I did promise that Myth would face his death on the same day his cohort did, and Alcaster has met his death today.

Both men tense, but follow me through the light of the passage I make, into the bowels of the palace. With a flick of my will, I light the passage way, walking towards the chamber where witch Muddy Shoes sits, watching Myth who remains bound in light…his magic restrained. After I had set the spell, even a lesser witch was able to maintain it, and they have been working in shifts to do so.

I could have cursed him, so other witches would not be needed to guard him. But this way, the good witches of the city have firsthand knowledge that I captured and defeated Myth. It is not only demonstrating my own power, that I have done this, but guard duty upon such a corrupted witch gives them a chance to obey me as well as a good reason to do so. I might have charge of the Tenebrarum, but that does not necessarily mean that I will be immediately obeyed by all of the witches. After all, some rebelled against my mother. The Bearers lack the centralized authority monarchs experience. It is good to give the witches tasks they would willingly perform and as soon as possible, to get them use to taking my orders.

I will need that obedience soon.

The good witches Parfait keeps in contact within the city have Parfait's word that I am both a good and competent Bearer myself. They know that something that we are not explaining to them has happened, with my using magic before turning eighteen, my marriage to Waltz, Myth's discovery and fall, and Alcaster's trial for treason. I would guess that most think that I have been living a double life for some time; one life as the spoiled princess of my reputation, and another as my magic manifested early and I used it to secretly train under Delora and then took down Alcaster and Myth to keep my father's rule from being challenged. I know Delora has admitted to training me to give this theory weight, and that we did not take action concerning ridding Waltz of his curse among other things until everything was in place to do so. They accept that I would not want to tip my hand to Myth too early.

Upon the sight of us as Waltz opens the door for me, Muddy Shoes pops up from her chair and curtsies to me. I take control of the spell restraining Myth's magic from her, and dismiss her to wait in the hall. She obeys without verbalizing questions, only exchanging a glance with Waltz and getting his nod before she shuts the door behind her.

Myth looks up at me as I walk into the room, and I remove his gag. I decide that I have to make the reasons behind why he must die, as opposed to simply being cursed, perfectly clear to everyone here.

"Myth," I tell him, "I have watched with my own eyes as you attempt murder, engage in treason against the king, and you tried to use the effects of the Fairytale Curse to control my own knight. You have no defense against these claims before me." I look over to my husband. "Anything additional that you know of that he has committed?"

His lips tighten for a moment before my husband adds his own litany of crimes, which also includes murder, subversion, and several other nasty criminalities. "He never showed any signs of repentance, never performed acts that showed a change of heart or mind. He…is entirely corrupted," Waltz finally finishes.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" I ask him.

Myth actually manages to smile at me. "You should show me mercy. I could serve you as faithfully as I ever served your mother, and will make any bargain with you to do so if you spare my life. I am not without my own skill, or power."

"In other words," I tell him, "you would constantly fail me in exchange for mercy? For better or worse, you have done little else for my mother."

"He made my father think that he could overthrow the king," Fritz whispers from behind me, adding his own accusation. "If they had not shared the same goal…my father might never have thought it possible…he might never have tried. He would still be the person he is…was…but if he had not had the opportunity…."

And I know that Fritz is right. His father has willingly participated in treason, but if he had not thought it possible for him to be successful, he may never have attempted it. Or perhaps, he would have waited until I became a witch myself, and then tried to see if I was amiable to such a plot. And then there are the events of the last cycle to consider. Even without Myth as an active partner, he still managed to do more than cause trouble…though Myth probably helped plan at least some of his steps as contingency actions before I cursed him.

"Your father was a fool, boy," Myth tells him. "A tool that I used as I attempted to free my master…the greatest queen Angielle has ever seen."

He spouts nonsense about my mother for several minutes, and I know what he is doing. He is trying to make me furious at him, so I strike him down in anger. If I become corrupt, I might free my mother. It is the only chance, that he sees, that could allow her life. It is the only way he has left to serve her. And I have no intention of granting him death at my own hand, since that is what he desires because he finds himself unable to save his own life.

"Enough," I finally tell him, and he finally stops speaking, and looks at me expectantly. "You are too dangerous to leave alive, and your crimes enough to earn you a death sentence in any court of law. Therefore, that is your sentence."

He actually manages to give me a smug grin, and I have yet another reason to believe that he is partially insane. "When you see your mother next, tell her of my devotion."

"I would prefer to never speak to her again, but if I do, perhaps I will tell her of your failure," I reply. But there is one more thing I need. Waltz tells me that he knows a spell that can be used to find someone's heir, if he has a sample of blood that could easily be obtained from the weapon used to kill Myth, so we could find Myth's daughter without the corrupted witch's aid. The only problem is that we have to be within a certain radius for it to work. We need a general direction to start with, and this gives Myth one final chance to show me that he has a single shred of decency left. "But you have one failure left to commit or avoid before you die. Tell me, what do you know of your daughter?"

The smug grin falls from Myth's face as he stares at me. "My _what_?!"

"Don't tell me that you did not even know, that you never made inquiries in the matter," I say dryly, even though I have no idea if he did or not. "You forced a girl to make her father pay, and my mother cursed the man. That girl later bore your child."

"He _needed_ to pay, to helplessly hear his daughter shrieking just like I had to listen to…when I couldn't do anything without being killed myself…she wouldn't have wanted…." Myth's breath catches, and then he shakes his head. "Your mother thought I was being too merciful, that I should have killed the girl as well, taking human blood in exchange for witch blood."

I look blankly at him for a moment. Obviously, some family member of his had died as a result of my assassin's actions. "So you…bestowed…witch blood in exchange for it being taken?" I say dryly. "Do you have any idea of the irony in that?"

Myth grimaces. "The irony is even worse than that."

"Meaning that you realize that the child will die very soon if I do not find her first, due to my mother's own curse, spilling yet _more_ witch blood?" I ask, hoping that my assumption in this is indeed correct.

Myth is silent for a moment. "You have some reason for wanting to find her," he says slowly. "It would advantage you in some way. You have discovered the alternative way to end the cycles, and plan to bring it about if you are trying to avoid your own corruption. Is my daughter a part of that in some way? Are you intending to force me into betraying your mother by helping you find the girl?"

"She has no direct connection to ending the cycles that I am aware of. Even if she did, you have betrayed Mother before, when it suited you, and you know it," I practically whisper. "You remember our little deal; you had given all hope of ever freeing her up when it became possible that I might grant you what you wanted from her."

"And you plan to kill me anyway, no matter what I say," Myth says carefully.

I nod. "Your other crimes have earned your death, and the fact that you have never done anything at all for the child you sired will not make you less responsible for them. You know that there is a way she might be found using your blood, even if you refrain from offering me your cooperation in this matter." Actually, according to Waltz, Myth had appeared distracted by something during the lesson in which Mother had presented that advanced spell…but fortunately she had not noticed. Myth might not remember that the spell only works within a certain radius.

I think I catch a flicker of his eyes towards Waltz and a flash of embarrassment, suggesting that he does indeed remember the theory of the matter if not its limitations, before his eyes return to me. "Then why ask me at all?" he asks.

"To see if you had a shred of decency left that I might be able to tell her about one day," I tell him. "And legally speaking, in Angielle an acknowledged bastard is allowed inheritance rights of property, if not title, even in the absence of a will that bestows them. Normally, the Crown would simply seize the property of a traitor such as yourself…but my father would make an exception under the circumstances. And telling me where she is counts as acknowledging her. Your choice determines not if she lives, but the resources she will have…if you give her anything at all besides a void where she should have had a father."

Myth stares at me a long minute before letting out a slow, deep breath. "I have nothing to lose by telling you, and she has something to gain if I do. She will be a witch one day, and wealth might protect her even if you discard her after she is no longer of use to you." He frowns for a moment. "You will promise me that she will inherit everything?"

"Unless you have other heirs you have not told me of, in accordance with the law, yes," I tell him. "As with all orphans too young to take possession of property, everything you currently _legally_ own will be sold and the proceeds will be kept in an account for her until she is of age to claim it, and she will have access to a reasonable stipend for her support as she grows if she does not have support from elsewhere. This is all assuming I can find her before she dies, and I will even ensure she is placed with a responsible guardian if none of her mother's relatives want to raise a witch."

And I know that if I do find the girl, she will have to leave her home and come with me, as Chaos has said that she will help me 'find my way out.' I do hope her grandfather will allow it without any trouble, or if he decides to come along that he will stop trying to kill me. Perhaps if I save the child, he will be grateful enough to not attempt to make me pay for the sins of my mother.

"Her mother lived outside of Clearwater's Edge, a small town on the southern side of the Aparima river, several weeks north of the capitol on horseback," he answers, and I almost sigh in relief. We need to travel north anyway, so it will not be that far out of our way. It will not cause a significant delay in getting to the Throne. "We did not bother with names, but you might be able to smell the curse when you get close enough even if your pet fails in his spell." And then he grins at me. "You realize, of course, that because the curse attacks the oldest first, she will be the only member of her grandfather's bloodline left? That if she died in another cycle, this means that her grandfather will die as a result of saving her? That you will be helping me obtain my final revenge against _him_ at any rate, spilling human blood for the sake of a witch? I had been planning something else…but obviously you already know about that, and this is even better."

And I shiver inside. The tiny shred of decency that Myth did have has once again been swallowed up in hate. "Then I think we are done here," I say, and then turn to Fritz. "Under the circumstances Fritz, if you wish to dispense justice to this criminal yourself, you may."

This, of course, is part of his sentence. He will not be killed by myself, as he hopes that that might potentially corrupt me if I strike him down in anger. He will not be killed by his greatest rival, which would have at least soothed his ego. Instead, he will be killed with a mundane, metal sword…wielded by the very same man that is so often his victim and tool.

Fritz grimly draws his sword, and Waltz and I back away. "Wait! What?!" Myth yells, eyes growing wide, just before—once again—Fritz's blade slashes through his neck. His head rolls off his shoulders, just before his entire body turns into dust. And I feel a sharp pain through my neck, and I grab onto Waltz's arm as he steadies me as I feel Myth's last moment of pain and horror.

It takes me a moment to recover, and I loose the magic that was holding my enemy, and it dissipates. Waltz casts a spell, gathering the blood from Fritz's sword and where it has splattered in the room, and places it in a vial he produces from his coat. Without another word, I turn and exit the room to see witch Muddy Shoes waiting on the other side of the hall.

"He is dead now. Do you have any questions you wish me to answer before I dismiss you?" I ask her. We had not been using a silencing spell.

Muddy Shoes shakes her head. "No Bearer. I only caught a few words every now and then. I am unsure of the situation except that a curse is apparently involved, but I believe trying to save a child is admirable. I hope you get there before…whatever it is happens."

"Then you are dismissed until this afternoon," I tell her. "Thank you for your services." I am addressing the good witches that live within the city in the Marchen at that time, concerning what the priests were commanded to do…what we were commanded to do. If the gods wish every magic user to serve humanity either informally as they had at first, or else formally as priests, then that is what I must communicate to them.

Parfait is planning a similar meeting with her fairies to give them that news this morning in the Marchen. She had received a parchment as well, and had taken it to 'Brother Justineus' to confirm that it had said exactly what I had already communicated to the priests. It had said exactly that. I had told her to tell the witch that I knew who and what he was, and that he was exempted from the meeting as he was already doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. According to him, the high priests were having a lot of meetings with their senior priests…one of which he was supposed to attend shortly…and _they_ had not found out his identity yet. He had no plans to tell them either, at least until the priesthood had started formally taking witches in. He had assured Parfait that he would 'allow the high priests to convince him' regarding allowing magic users into the temple.

"It is my pleasure to serve you, Bearer," she replies, curtsying.

I open a portal into the Marchen for her, and she travels through. After a minute, I sigh. "Well…that's over. I don't have to worry about my father being overthrown while I am away, now." I have cut the heads off of the snake.

"We need to see to the rest of the preparations, then," Waltz agrees. "And I need to go take care of this to make a device to help us find that girl," he says, holding the vial of blood before leaving to walk towards the laboratory. "Don't be surprised if this takes me the rest of the morning."

I nod, and then turn to Fritz. "Do you wish to join our traveling party when we leave tomorrow?" I ask my knight as my husband walks down the hall. "I could arrange for you to be excused from all other duties in order to accompany me. Jurien and Garlan are already assigned to come, but I usually need all of the help that I can get and would not think of leaving you behind."

Fritz's face is blank for a moment, and he nods. "That…might be best, Princess. Even after testifying against my father…it still might be best for me to leave for a while. Since the trial, no one looks at me with suspicion anymore, but the pity…." Fritz takes a deep breath, and I know that he would probably rather just be left alone than be the recipient of regretful looks. He might search out a friend or two in order to help him distract himself in a bottle, but if I am going somewhere, his duty takes precedence. "And I would never let you go anywhere outside the palace without me, let alone the town." He pauses. "By the way, where _are_ we going? I know that you explained once that first day, but I was…distracted at the time."

"To the Throne of the gods," I tell him. "I intend to address the time fluctuations with them by getting rid of my mother permanently."

He actually breaks into a grin reminiscent of a certain man in black. "Princess…you never do _anything_ halfway."

….


	59. Last Minute Details

**Chapter 59. Last Minute Details**

Leaving Waltz to complete his work, Fritz and I return to the upper floors of the palace. I catch my father on his way back inside the palace and give him instructions regarding Myth's property, and a recommendation that a witch assess his possessions to see if any of the items are dangerous before sale. He agrees to keep the proceeds for Myth's daughter, as the child had been Myth's victim just as much as anyone. I leave him to attend to the rest of his duties and Fritz and I go to my father's formal study where Tuttle is waiting for me, as arranged, with maps for my journey. As always with my conversations with Tuttle, I put a sound barrier up in the room.

"I have several routes laid out, Your Highness," he tells me as he spreads one of the maps out on my father's desk for me to see. "And I have the dangers of each route listed. There are a few places that have bridges in poor repair, but I assume that with magic, you would consider that inconsequential."

"A little stoneshaping will make bridges better than when we found them," I note, "so yes, their states would be considered inconsequential. What else might I be dealing with?"

"Poor road conditions and bandits mostly," Tuttle admits. "The main thoroughfares used for trade with Brugantia or Cedel are patrolled the most often and are in the best condition, but the other roads are mostly used by traders that visit the small towns, and some smugglers. Bandits prey on travelers in some areas, the lesser only demanding 'tolls' when no such thing legally exists, and the greater taking everything. I doubt the smugglers would bother other parties, but if you look like you have coin…."

"I'll be wearing a disguise, and we should appear as middle-class travelers," I answer. "If asked, our story is that I am takin my mother's body to be buried at a place of her choosing, in order to receive my inheritance. We are even going to transport the Crystallum in a coffin."

"That's…an interesting half-truth, Your Highness," Tuttle admits. "And I must give you my wishes for a safe and successful journey once more. And His Majesty has had a few documents made out just in case you get into any official trouble during your journey."

"Of course," I say. It is a precaution anyone would take. Well…anyone with the possession of the king's royal seal. "We need to pick someone up in a town called Clearwater's Edge, near the southern side of the Aparima river. Could we mark that on the map that I will be taking?"

"Let me look, Your Highness," Tuttle says. He does not find it on the map he has prepared with our potential routes, but does find it on a provincial map that shows the villages as well as the towns and cities. He marks the location on my map, and folds them up to present them to me. Just as he is doing this, I feel a kick so sharp I almost grunt and my hand starts moving toward my belly, before I quickly change the gesture to indicate that I wish the documents to be handed to Fritz. These last few days, among other things, I have been very careful in gesturing or carrying anything so nothing bounces off my belly. It has been very difficult, as I had gotten use to resting my hand on my belly when my son kicks. Sometimes, the movements are more rhythmic…and then I realized it was probably hiccups. I find that particular sensation very odd.

"Your Highness…I am unsure how to put this," Tuttle starts out hesitantly, "and I apologize if this steps over any boundaries…."

I sigh. If there was one person in the palace likely to notice that I am hiding something, it would be Tuttle. Decimond would be another possibility, but he would be less likely to ask especially since I have seen relatively little of him this cycle. Decimond would want information only if he could use it, while Tuttle is more likely to want to know everything, and then decide from there what is useful and what is not. "Ask. I find it easier to settle things before 'misunderstandings' occur."

Tuttle nods. "Forgive me, but I noticed that you are excessively careful of handling anything directly in front of you. On rare occasion your hand twitches toward your abdomen before you force it to relax…these last few days anyway. I hope…that you are not experiencing ill health Princess?"

"Have you mentioned your…suspicion that I might be pregnant to anyone?" I ask, preferring to get it all out in the open.

"No Your Highness," Tuttle answers, and my shoulders relax a little. "With all that has happened in the last few days, I am operating under the assumption that more has happened than meets the eye."

"You…are not wrong in that," I admit. I think for a moment. Tuttle knows that my mother is still alive. "The short answer is that the…method…my mother took to keep herself alive had a time-altering effect on me. I am much closer to thirty years old than twenty. I think I would like to give you the details someday, but there are still several factors in play."

Tuttle looks at me for a moment, and nods. "Then I look forward to a fascinating tale when you are able to tell me what happened. I have known for years that your mother erased your memories so she might have done worse to you as well, and it is easy to believe that you are somehow older with the change in your behaviors. Your child should not have to pay for your mother's deeds, so I will keep my silence and allow you to handle the matter without any interference from me."

"Thank you," I reply. And now it occurs to me to wonder what Tuttle saw when I was a child, to know about that. But there is little time for conversation.

Tuttle hands the papers to Fritz, and after bidding Tuttle goodbye, Fritz and I go to my room next but there really is not that much to pack. Delora already has purchased travel appropriate clothing for me, which awaits at the Marchen. Since simple household spells will clean clothing, I only need two changes of clothes anyway. All I really put in a bag with the papers to take with me are my toiletries, and I have Fritz fetch the old puppet from under the bed for me because I am starting to have trouble bending over. He looks at me a bit oddly when I give it the care I had never directed at any objects but my dolls when I carefully add it to the bag.

"If I may ask Princess, what is so special about that puppet?" he says curiously.

"Waltz and I made it together when I was teaching him to sew. It was the very first one that he made," I answer, smiling a bit wistfully as I sit down on my bed. "We had been friends back then…as children." I look back up at Fritz. "You must understand; I did not have a 'happy' childhood. My father was distant, Mother had threatened to remove me if he behaved in any other way, and my mother's affections were always conditional. If I was behaving as she thought that I ought to, I would receive her smiles and hugs…and if not, I would receive only her reprimands. She cut me off from everyone else…and Waltz was the only one that broke through anyway."

Fritz nods slowly, but then frowns. "I never heard you mention him in all the time I was assigned to you."

I give him a grim smile. "That is because my mother erased my memories of him. She was not pleased that I had affection for someone other than her, and she was also hoping that making me forget about Waltz would crush him and make him vulnerable to corruption. His magical skills were without fault, but she was having a lot of trouble in trying to corrupt him. Instead of giving in, he fought back by betraying her."

Fritz shivers. "Unlike what she did to Mythros…."

I nod. "I do not know the entire story there, but yes, she did succeed in corrupting the lesser of her two apprentices."

My knight nods solemnly. "But you eventually regained your memories anyway?"

"As I become Bearer, magic committed against me has a lesser hold on me," I tell him. "This includes the memories my mother erased…though new ones still pop up from time to time. I do not think that I will regain everything until my mother is dead for the final time, and the Tenebrarum is completely mine without the possibility of another cycle starting. With her still alive right now, I can only use about half of its power…and it has its own limitations with the condition that it is in."

"Does it put you in danger, like that?" he asks.

I grimace. "If it breaks, I die. If I come into physical contact with it, my mother could get loose. If I do not repair it, I will be unable to pass through it from outside the gates into the holy city. To repair it, I have to feed it with my own emotions, and experiencing that kind of grief, anger, or fear increases my chance of becoming corrupted. Fritz…I cannot pretend that I am not in terrible danger."

He pales at that, and sits down himself. After a long moment he finally speaks. "And I…cannot do a thing about _any_ of that."

"But you already have," I tell him. "Two cycles ago you saved Waltz when you could have let Myth kill him, and this prevented me from having to marry Myth. That night instead of experiencing a nightmare, I married Waltz and he gave me the child that makes getting these cycles stopped possible. I could not move the Tenebrarum without magic, and being pregnant kept me from being physically reset to younger than eighteen. During the last cycle you convinced Veles, the Lucis Bearer of Cedel, to meet me instead of dismissing my request for his help. We were able to convince him to help me get through the gates, and without that I would have no chance at all. Fritz…I could not have gotten this far without you. Without you, I would not have any hope at all."

His shoulders relax and he takes a deep breath. "I…am grateful to have helped. It just feels strange to get credit for things I have no memory of doing. I still wish that you did not have to carry the burdens…the dangers…that you do."

I nod. "Which is why I consider that puppet special. It is a reminder of a time of innocence, and my only thought at the time was that I had found someone that would keep me from being lonely, someone that wanted nothing more than my smiles. Even when my mother erased my memories concerning Waltz, I still kept the puppet because I associated it with being happy."

"And things are so much more complex now," Fritz admits. "Whether you knew it or not, you were always in danger due to your mother and her actions. The danger is just…more acute now."

"I did fix the Tenebrarum last time," I tell Fritz. "I used mostly anger and grief, and my husband was able to soothe me in my anger and comfort me in my grief. He kept me from falling then, and I trust that he will put forth the same effort again."

Fritz nods, and I stand up, ready to start moving again. "Well, it's still a busy day. Parfait is still meeting with her fairies right now, and I'll see my witches in the afternoon, which leaves the rest of the morning to say goodbye to my family." I quickly grab Waltz's toiletries, and add them to the sack before opening a small portal to put everything on the table in his room in the Marchen. "Since we are leaving in the morning, you need to go home to pack your own things sometime today. If you want to wait until I leave the palace and am in my meeting, that is fine. I'll just send someone with you to make sure you do not get lost on your way back to the Marchen. Be sure to bring something warm to wear, you might even want a fur lined cloak, and there has already been a horse obtained for you."

That done, I go to the parlor in my father's chambers to say goodbye to my family, leaving Fritz outside my father's quarters. When I get inside, my stepmother and siblings are indeed waiting there for me with the servants dismissed, and my father should be coming soon after he is done tending to his own responsibilities this morning.

The first thing I do is give Ophelia the journal I made for her. I explain that I want them to read it while I am gone both to answer questions they will likely think of later, and so I am not completely absent from their lives while I am gone. I am not that surprised when she becomes misty eyed at the gift. She says that she does not mind me calling her 'Mum' either when I ask her again, after I explain that I cannot call her 'Mother' because that is the designation of the monster that was being kept in the basement…the one I will be taking with me when I leave.

Ophelia just tells me that she has always seen me as her daughter, and she could not be happier that I want such a relationship with her now. At that point, she really does burst into tears, hugging me. It takes me a while to calm her down again, but then, I really prefer this to the last time I calmed her down. Last time, she had lost a daughter. Now, Emelaigne is standing both hale and hearty in the room with us.

I am talking to Emelaigne on the couch when my father does finally come in, and Ophelia happily shows him the journal I gave her while I speak with my sister…who is rather disappointed that I have to be leaving.

"But…can't you wait a while? Even a few days?" Emelaigne asks. "It's like you practically turned into someone else overnight, and you are so much more…amiable…now! I feel like I haven't gotten a chance to get to know you again. You have been so busy we hardly see you except at meals, and now you are leaving!"

"I dare not tarry any longer," I tell her regretfully. "Everything that is absolutely needful is taken care of, or will be seen to by the end of today. I know that a child will die if I do not find her first, and I have no idea what my time constrictions are in that case."

She shifts uncomfortably. "I…really can't ask you to endanger anyone. But I don't like the idea that we won't see you for months, knowing that you are doing something dangerous."

"That knowledge should make your protocol lessons seem less onerous, at any rate," I tease her. "No one lives or dies based on whether you get your brandy and juice glasses mixed up during formal occasions."

My sister sighs. "At least traveling would be more interesting."

I shrug. "Father visits different parts of the kingdom, sometimes. If you were able to progress enough in your protocol lessons, I see no reason you could not join him if you want to travel." That possibility might give her a little motivation to study harder, if she finds travel so appealing. On the other hand…. "Though come to think of it, you might want to avoid travel until I get back. People will probably assume Father is taking you along to find you a husband if you are out often."

She only gives me an unsteady smile in response to that.

Rod, as always, is considerably less loquacious than his sister is. "Just…just try to take care of yourself. And make sure Waltz takes good care of you. Come back when you can."

I smile at him. "Waltz always takes good care of me." And then I think for a moment. "Just so you know…I think I may have forgotten to erase the parts concerning the particulars of your curse in that journal I gave Mum."

My brother sighs deeply. "Well, at least it is not an issue anymore. Thank you for that. Without you, I would never have broken it myself."

I can only shake my head at him. "Rod… _any_ girl would have been able to satisfy the conditions of the curse, allowing you to break it. You were just very stubborn about insisting that you would never care for anyone else that way. Contrary to popular belief, life _does_ go one after unrequited love. If you dwell on it too long, you could miss out on something truly special. Sometimes, someone's first choice of a lover is not the best one they could make, and there is someone better that they might not have considered."

My brother frowns, thinking for a long moment before he asks, "Was Waltz _your_ first choice?"

"No," I tell him, and this is as close as I will come to the entirety of that truth. "Waltz was simply the best choice."

Emelaigne is also quiet after that exchange. She knows that she was not Fritz's first choice…but she still has the potential to be his best choice.

My father is the last one I say goodbye to, and I throw myself into his arms for a hug. "I'm going to miss you," I tell him, my face practically hidden in his chest.

"And I will miss you, and pray diligently for your safe return," he replies, and when the hug ends, he still holds me by the shoulders at arm's length so he can look at my face. "Lucette, I want you to know…." He sighs. "I made a lot of mistakes when trying to raise you. Even when trying to do the best that I could, I know that it wasn't good enough, that I should have kept trying even harder. I was always terrified for you, and I let that curb my efforts, afraid that I might push you further away if I tried and failed. I have never been more grateful for anything than that you have become the woman that you are."

And now, I am in danger of tears myself. "I made mistakes too," I admit. "I lashed out in pain when you _did_ try to come closer to me. The prison of isolation Mother had put me into became comfortable enough for me to see it as safety, when I might have been safer with you."

My father raises an eyebrow. " _Might_ have?" he asks.

"Think about it for a moment," I tell him. "Had we been close, or even congenial, after Mother's defeat, things might have been different. Myth would have likely used spells to control you, or assassinated you, to remove the effect you would have been having on my life. If I had known what Mother had been, and how she had injured me…I would have been unlikely to free her willingly. He probably would have set himself up as my guardian until I was old enough to rule after disposing of you…but you would have been gone long before the cycles started. The only way you could have altered this would be had you allowed good witches in the palace, so someone would have caught Myth before he had a chance to carry out his plans."

And now my father is as pale as a sheet, and has to clear his throat before he can speak again. The thought of him being dead with his daughter and kingdom in the hands of a corrupted witch that wanted me to free my mother clearly disturbs him. "Well…well maybe something good has come out of my failures."

"And mine," I reply. "One thing I have learned is that even terrible circumstances can lead to something good." Without the cycles, I doubt I would have Waltz. "And…and I love you." I turn to take my entire family in. "I love you all. Stay safe while I am gone."

My husband takes that moment to appear out from behind the bookshelf hiding the entrance to the secret passages, looking a bit sooty but triumphant. Obviously, he has been successful, and I give him a broad smile. He also says his own goodbyes, which are not as emotional since my family does not know him that well, but he still gets a handshake that turns into hug from my father.

"Take care of my daughter, my grandson, and yourself as well," my father tells my husband.

"I would never do anything else for them," Waltz simply answers.

My father smiles at Waltz. "If she does have to leave Angielle, at least I know that they are both in capable hands. I will worry less knowing that you are there with them."

After a final round of hugs and tears, I collect my knight from outside the door, and we all leave via portal to the Marchen.

There is still a lot to do today.

….

When we get to the Marchen, we find the last of the fairies leaving the building. "How did it go?" I ask Parfait, after she has dispatched Klaude to go with Fritz to get his things from his house, and lock it up for the duration of his travels.

"It went decently well," my friend admits, waving Chevalier over long enough to ask him to get us some lunch from the kitchen. The inn itself is closed to the general public at this time, but Annice is still seeing to the needs of the boarders. "One of my cousins will be watching the inn after we leave tomorrow. And it is accepted that both the Lucis and Tenebrarum were damaged at the end of the war, necessitating the two of us leaving to find someplace without distractions to repair them. Everyone _is_ rather curious as to how you started using magic before turning eighteen. The favored theory on that point is that after so long without a Bearer and in a damaged state, the Tenebrarum itself decided you were needed urgently and granted you its magic earlier than normal."

"Plausible," I admit. "Wrong, but plausible and convenient."

"As to the rest of it," she continues, "the general consensus is that witches benefit more from entering the temple than fairies. No one is trying to kill _us_ for using magic, but I reminded them that it was not so long ago that witches would have said the same thing. And that if the gods commanded we retake our former places in formal service, we had every reason in the world to do so."

"How many appeared interested in doing so?" I ask. "I have not really found the fairies, aside from you, that helpful…or at least, not on short notice." Some had helped retake the palace two cycles ago, but aside from that, I cannot remember any fairies fighting in our battles aside from Parfait.

My friend sighs as Chevalier returns with our trays. After thanking him, she tells me, "A few. Most want to think about it for a while. You are quite likely to have more interested witches, and not only because they want to escape persecution. A lot of them are trying to form an opinion of you, as they have been presented with contradictory information. You were well known for your cold behavior as a princess, but with your actions during the last several days, some of them are trying to figure out which way is 'up.'"

I smile. "I tend to have that effect on people. I certainly did that to you six months ago." When I had arrived in the Marchen, able to use magic and pregnant with Waltz's child, she had had no way to explain it.

"That would not surprise me," Parfait says before continuing. "But at any rate, it is assumed that you have been using magic for some time with Delora teaching you, and that you have been living a double life until you could drop the heavy end of the hammer on Myth and Alcaster. The witches also assume that because you are accustomed to being treated as a princess, that you will be an authoritative Bearer as well. So long as you take actions that are good and make sense, this would not be problematic. If you give them good and logical reasons for what you want them to do, they are likely to accept your will."

And I find that Parfait is correct in that. Waltz and Delora sit to the side of me as I explain that Parfait and I will be leaving to affect repairs on our Crystallum, and that I have done what I can for the safety of both them and the general populace at the current time. I show them my scroll, and that it is identical to the one Parfait received, and the written translation. I tell them that the human priests have been commanded to accept witches into the priesthood, so that naturally this is a command for us as well. Anyone not affiliated with public service needs to join, and that a source within the temple has told us that the high priests are working diligently right now to get their own subordinates to agree to this.

Everyone is shocked at this, and there is still some bitterness left over from when the priests had refused Hildyr when she made a similar effort. However, more than three quarters of them agree to try, and Muddy Shoes and one of the male witches that served as my ambassador to the Brugantian Bearers agree to see the high priests every few weeks to find the status of their 'meetings,' and to take robes as soon as they are allowed to do so.

"You were correct," I tell Parfait as the witches leave, and I tell her about how many agreed.

The fairy sighs. "And I have an uphill battle once we get back. The witches will band together to save themselves, but the fairies feel secure in their independence and feel little need to change their lifestyles."

I surprise myself by breaking out in a wry grin. "Has it ever occurred to you that magic does not affect how…human…we still are? I wonder when everyone else will notice."

I am not sure, but I think that I heard Parfait actually snort at that. And the irony in my statement is almost palpable. We, both fairies and witches, are treated as different from humans…but we differ only in our abilities, and not our personalities. And those abilities were granted that we might serve, but instead of performing that service, most of us use them only for our own gain. Performing tasks to provide for oneself and one's family is one thing, but to not use our abilities to help others at all is…selfish. And it is selfishness that gives birth to tragedy.

Some of us have gone even further in using our abilities to harm others, and thus providing the work I have to undo tonight. At sundown, I put on my second sight from the second story of the Marchen and look into the common room beneath me.

Parfait has told all of the cursed in the city to come to the Marchen tonight after the meetings, so the common room is packed full. She has warned them that the Tenebrarum is unstable, and until it becomes stable, I will only be able to remove a certain number of curses at this time. The 'worst' curses will have priority, but no curse is pleasant by nature. She has also told them that after this, she will be going elsewhere with me to help me conduct repairs, and that we may be gone for months. This is not a lie, but it is not the complete truth.

And I almost laughed when I realized that in spite of the fact that Parfait remembers only the last bit of the last cycle, I have still rubbed off on the fairy. Now, I am not the only one telling half-truths.

I suppose that happens more often when the truth is so unbelievable.

I have decided to conduct myself from above the common room, in the private dining room, simply so I cannot see the faces of the cursed as I know that I will only cure some while I must leave others in their current states. There are only a few of them I know well, but I know most of them by their faces. I do not want to take anything into account except the severity of the curses as I make my selections as to who I help, and who I do not.

It is not long before I have been working for perhaps an hour, feeding the Tenebrarum even as I weaken it by removing curses, hoping this will allow me to do more good before I must stop. In aid of this, Parfait sits beside me, attempting to keep my magic silent from the outside world while I work. Even with Myth dead, there is still the possibility of other wicked witches lurking, others that would attempt to force me to free my mother if they could find me. If they came in sufficient numbers, it would be…problematic. I have already tracked down and cursed the worst of them with Waltz's help, but there were a few potentially troublesome ones that we were unable to locate. And I can only hope the fates of the others were convincing enough to still their hands when it came to cursing.

 _And another one…._

I touch one of the blackest of the curses left, willing it to be gone, and it dissipates. But, something gives a lurch, and the Tenebrarum before me quivers.

The output of energy I am experiencing right now is almost dizzying, as I funnel it into a simple but useless spell. Parfait groans beside me, trying to hide the weight of its output from the outside world. She cannot last much longer. I am going to have to stop…and my own Crystallum is starting to shudder anyway. There is noise in the room, but I ignore it.

I look again into the common room, and see that I have dealt with the blackest…the worst…of the curses present. _This will have to do, for now. At least…none of the curses left are fatal, or capable of causing great injury._

I gasp as I let go of my magic, and the Tenebrarum before me goes silent. Parfait, seeing that she no longer has to hold on, stops holding her own magic and slumps in her chair breathing heavily. I close my eyes myself for a moment, but catch my breath much more easily than she. When I open them to survey the room around me, she is still breathing hard.

Waltz is still beside me, making sure that I do not come into physical contact with the Tenebrarum that I have placed in the far corner of the room. By the doorway, I can see Delora with her hand firmly clamped on Klaude's wrist. He had not been here before.

"I am sorry Klaude," I tell him. "I cannot dispel any more curses until I repair the Tenebrarum some more."

He looks at me, his eyes wide. "Who…who…?" He looks at the two witches and the fairy in the room with me, as if thinking one of them has committed an indiscretion. _Oh yes, I called him by his name._ And then he looks at me, and his eyes widen.

I am not wearing my illusion, like I had been the rest of the time. He can clearly see that I am very pregnant. And then he takes a step back as he notices that the Tenebrarum encases my mother. "You have noticed my…problem. Mother will not wake unless I rouse her. On the other subject, your curse was just not as serious as the curses I've been dispelling…and I had to take care of the worst ones first. Yours is not time sensitive, nor potentially fatal to anyone…under normal circumstances, anyway."

He is silent for a moment. "Forgive me…but your stepbrother, and the doctor you took care of before starting on anyone else?"

"Rod's curse was fatal," I tell him. "And I will require the services of a physician on my journey for…obvious reasons."

"You leave in the morning, and cannot help me tonight?" he asks clearly worried, and I nod.

Delora sighs. "You still only think of yourself Karma, and not the other cursed that she was unable to help yet?"

"Selfishness is how he got into his mess," I reply, and Klaude flinches. "However, he is capable of changing if he wishes to."

"You can't blame me…I mean…" he tries to say, looking between Delora's frowning face, and my blank one…and it is if he just notices that Parfait is passed out, and that she appears to be sliding out of her chair.

"Put her to bed before we discuss anything else. She needs some rest before the last meeting tonight," I say, and Klaude and Delora nod.

Klaude comes over and picks Parfait up, and carries her out of the dining room with Delora following him to get the doors. I suspect that, before returning, Delora will also have to dismiss the rest of the cursed that gather in the common area and let them know that they will have to wait for my return before I can help them as well.

I do not envy her that task.

After they are gone, Waltz turns to me. "What do you think?" he asks.

"It's starting to shudder as I get rid of more curses," I tell my husband. "I won't be able to get rid of the Fairytale Curse itself any time soon." And unless there is another way to keep our baby in stasis, I cannot do that anyway.

He nods, but grimaces. That was not the assessment that he, and so many others, were hoping for.

It is only a few minutes before Delora and Klaude return. He still looks…miffed. "None of them told me who you are, if that is what is upsetting you," I tell him.

"Then how _did_ you know?" he asks.

I smile at him. "Magic. I'm a witch, you know."

He sighs. "Well, will you be able to get rid of my curse tomorrow morning? I would say that price would be immaterial, but I don't know what I could possibly offer you that you lack."

And he is not really wrong in that. Typically, he offers me affable company when he finds me sitting by myself, cursed and alone. Last time when I had been neither cursed nor friendless, he tried to get into my good grades by befriending Fritz. He does not realize that what I want from him is his friendship, that I seek a chance to help him grow as a person. For that to be possible, he has to come with us…but I will not be dishonest about the circumstances.

"No, I will not be able to dispel it before I leave," I tell him honestly. "But if you wish it, you could come with us. I might be up to dispelling more curses in a week or so…but if you wish to come, remain for the entire journey. I am quite sure you will enjoy recounting tales of it to your brother for years to come, and another sword might be welcome. I do not accept freeloaders any more than Parfait does. You would serve the same functions as the knights accompanying us. Garlan, Jurien, and Fritz will be with us."

He blinks. "Exactly…exactly where are you going? And I take it that your goal is to remove your…problem?"

"We are going to the Throne of the gods to either renegotiate a contract my mother made, or else fulfill its terms, in hopes that she will finally be destroyed and the time fluctuations will stop," I answer.

"The Throne of the gods…time fluctuations?" he asks, and then smiles as if he is thinking that I am joking. Then he notices that the rest of us are unsmiling, and his smile drops. "I…see. You…are quite serious."

"I've really tried everything else," I tell him. "And there's a good chance that the next time fluctuation will destroy my son if I cannot get them to stop…or if we do not get there in time. You don't have to come with us, you could wait here and hope that I return successful. It might be some months, if all goes well. If I succeed in stopping the time fluctuations and keep my son alive, but am unable to return myself due to death or some other calamity, you would have to wait until my son grows old enough to dispel your curse. Another alternative is to go downstairs, and see if there is some cursed maiden that suites your standards; someone that might love you and would not be as affected by your own curse…though I would strongly recommend that you warn her that you might transform before you do so. It is possible for you to break your curse yourself using that method."

He is still for a moment, realizing that not only do I know who he is, but I know the details of his curse as well. "As opposed to only another week in dresses, and a grand adventure worthy of tale and song?" he asks, somehow striking a pose…even in that dress. "You are right…my brother will never be able to top traveling to the gods to destroy Hildyr herself. I would enjoy telling him of this…repetitively."

I sigh. "You are always so dramatic. I am hoping for as boring of a trip as possible, but all things considered, that is…unlikely. I don't think that anyone in my vicinity has ever been bored, yet."

Waltz chuckles from beside me. He, I know, has been anything _but_ bored during our interactions. In fact, the last few days could be best described as a whirlwind.

"Do not expect the comforts of an inn, though," I remind him. "I fully anticipate to have to sleep 'in the rough' more often than not."

"Forgive me Princess," Klaude tells me, "but if you can suffer such even in your condition, so can I." He pauses for a moment. "If I may be so bold as to ask, Princess…."

"We got married six months ago, on my eighteenth birthday that is occurring in about another six months," I practically bite. "Like I said…time fluctuations…and magic. It's Mother's fault."

He smiles weakly, and his eyes draw back up to the Tenebrarum where my mother sleeps. "Of course. I'll…I'll go and pack."

"Be at the meeting in a few hours once Parfait is able to sit up straight again if you want to hear the entire story. And don't bother to pack anything that won't fit on your own horse," I tell him, somehow thinking that Klaude is probably not normally a light traveler. He might try to sneak a full-length mirror into the wagon.


	60. Departure

**Chapter 60. Departure**

"It is time to go, Mother," I say softly early the next morning, as I place the Tenebrarum containing my mother into the coffin we will be using for its transport. For some reason, this act has the feel of finality to it.

I had almost forgotten what finality felt like.

Breakfast is done, and everyone is doing their final packing before departure. For Parfait and I, that means moving our Crystallum into the wagon. Parfait has already moved hers, and mine will be secured directly on top. Last night, once Parfait was able to sit up and talk again, we explained the full situation to everyone coming with us. As proof to our words, not only am I carrying Waltz's child, but both Waltz and Parfait have memories of the previous cycle and everyone saw my mother trapped within the Tenebrarum. There was some surprise certainly, but everyone sees getting rid of my mother as a more than worthy goal; a goal worth even dying for. And in this kind of a situation, I cannot ask for any more or less of my companions…though I strongly hope such action will be unnecessary.

"It will be over before we know it," Waltz says from beside me. My husband has no intention of allowing me to be close enough that touching the Tenebrarum would be possible without his presence. If I so much as tripped and put a hand out to steady myself, Mother could get loose.

And that is a circumstance that none of us can afford.

"I hope so," I tell him, magically shutting the lid, wishing that it was all already over…wishing that my mother would finally leave my life for good. But I know that it will not truly happen; if nothing else, I will be forever left with the scars from the wounds she has given me.

I use magic to float the coffin out of the room, and down the steps to the back of the Marchen where there is a decent amount of commotion as everyone is finishing getting ready. Today, Delora is the whirlwind instead of me as she directs everyone. The knights are saddling the riding horses, and hitching the ones that will pull the wagon. Chevalier runs back and forth between the inn and the wagon, packing the last of the foodstuff. Karma is slinking back to the inn, unhappily returning a large mirror. Parfait is the only one sitting down, as she speaks to the cousin of hers that will be watching both the inn and over the remaining cursed while we are gone. Like me, Parfait is also wearing an illusion so she is not recognized, but while I appear brunette and pregnant she appears slender and her now blond hair sweeps half way down her back. It is not the only way she has hidden her identity, and even _I_ have to concentrate a minute before I can sense her magical power. Waltz, Delora, and I are wearing similar spells, and no one should be able to recognize us for who and what we are until the spells fade in about a week. Then, we can reapply them or not as we wish. As an added precaution, everyone with us will be wearing a different face until after we leave the city. Delora has already seen to these spells. In fact, if it were not for their clothing, I doubt I would recognize anyone here. Even our clothes will be somewhat obscured, because we are wearing our cloaks as we leave the city in the chill of this early morning.

After I finish loading the Tenebrarum into the wagon and Waltz uses leather straps to secure the coffin so it will not move during travel, we exit the wagon only to find two new arrivals. At the peripheral of the scene, I see my brother and sister standing there just watching in apparent confusion as they see no one that they recognize.

"Did you two come to see me off?" I ask, approaching them.

They both blink. "Lucette?" Emelaigne asks, almost hesitantly.

I smile at her. "Yes. We thought it better if no one recognized us on the way out."

"That…makes sense," my sister admits. She is quiet for a moment. "You really are leaving now, then?"

"That was always the plan," I tell her. "It is something that I need to do. I would have left sooner, but I had to do what I could to stabilize things in Angielle first. I had to make sure that everyone was as safe as I could make them."

Rod nods. "Thank you for that. We won't have to worry about Alcaster or Myth this time, anyway." And now he is quiet for a moment. "Your father said that you might stay away from home for the next nine months even if you are done faster than that, for the baby's sake; that we might not see you again until it gets close to your father's birthday."

I nod. "My other choice, if I am needed here, is to return when I am needed, and to pass him off as a twin when I have my next child. _Please_ try not to get into any trouble while I am gone, so my presence is not necessary. I…do not want to have to wait any longer than I must to be with my son." And my heart aches at the mere thought of needing to wait even six months, never mind nearly a year.

"We'll do our best," Rod promises me.

Emelaigne looks torn, glancing between her brother and myself. "Could I…could I come with you?" she asks, and I cannot stop myself from blinking in surprise. "I don't want to leave you, now that we have started being friends. Hardships of the trip won't bother me, and you know that I can be brave from what I did in the last cycle. And I…I want to help if I can. I can cook!" she tries to convince me.

My brother opens his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it. "No," I tell her.

"Please?" she asks again. "I won't be a bother…I won't get in anyone's way! And…" she trails off, her eyes finding Fritz, if only because she can recognize his armor.

I sigh. "Everyone that is coming is capable of fighting, if necessary. Even the doctor is capable of cutting someone's throat."

"What?!" I hear from behind me, and I turn to see Chevalier stopped dead in his tracks with a sack of potatoes over his shoulder that it appears he has almost dropped.

"You killed Myth once," I tell him. "You did what you had to do."

Chevalier gives me an uneasy smile before shifting his burden, and hurrying back into the wagon to put it away silently. And I have finally found a subject that even he cannot come up with a ridiculous pun for. Taking a life is no laughing matter.

I shrug as I turn back to his siblings. "Killing anyone goes against his nature. Not that I have ever found it easy myself, but sometimes evil will not be disposed of any other way." Both of my siblings pale a bit, as they realize that I have killed people myself, and more than once. I continue. "At any rate, this trip will probably be dangerous, and if you cannot use a weapon you would be a liability. And I would prefer that you remain here, in relative safety." I can still quite clearly remember stroking my sister's pale, cold cheek as her coffin was being finished. It was only a few weeks ago.

Her face, now warm and rosy again, falls. "If that is what would make you feel better…."

"It is," I tell her, and then my sister hugs me.

"Take care, then. Come back when you can, and please look out for…" Emelaigne trails off, her eyes wandering over to Fritz as he finishes saddling one of the horses.

"You can tell Fritz goodbye, too," I tell her with a small smile.

My sister nods, and walks up to Fritz is working, and he bows as he notices her standing there. "Princess?" he asks surprised.

"You have my wishes and my prayers for a safe and successful journey, Sir Fritz," she tells him.

Fritz bows again to her. "Thank you, Your Highness. I…am just surprised you recognized me. I did not recognize myself in the mirror this morning."

My sister smiles at him. "You could dye your hair black and wear a mask, and I would still know that it was you."

And I cannot help but smile at that. I had not gone into what Fritz looked like in his cursed state at all, as there were always more relevant things to talk about. I have to wonder once more if my sister _had_ recognized him, when he had appeared as Varg at her ball.

"I…am flattered, Princess," Fritz manages, sounding somewhat curious.

"Mount up!" Delora calls as the last of the horses stand ready, and everything has apparently been loaded.

"Thanks for talking her out of it," Rod whispers to me, and I nod while watching Fritz quickly kiss Emelaigne's hand before he mounts his horse.

"Try to keep her out of trouble," I tell him. "And yourself as well. If you have to ask a witch for anything, ask Maeve. She will not curse you."

Rod gives me an unsteady smile. "I'll…keep that in mind."

And with that, Waltz helps me up into the wagon seat before climbing onto his own horse, and Parfait comes up after me. We have things designed so someone will always be riding with me, so I have someone to talk to as we go, but the seat beside me belongs to Parfait whenever she is too tired to ride a horse. Apparently, she is still exhausted from last night.

Parfait's cousin promises to see my siblings back to the palace after helping my friend up into the wagon seat, and I wave to them before we turn the corner and are hidden from their view. It is only then that I try to sit back and relax as we leave the city. It feels like….

"I cannot shake the feeling that I have forgotten to do something," I muse as we pass through the city gates.

Parfait blinks. "Well…I think we took care of everything important that we could, within the time constraints we have."

I go through the list of things I wanted to do in this cycle before leaving, and mentally check them off. "Still, there feels like something…." And then I remember. "I forgot to apologize to Annice this time!"

And Parfait actually laughs at me.

…..

I am hoping for a boring trip, and for the first few weeks that is largely what I get. We rise early, eat a breakfast of porridge, and start on the road. At lunchtime, either my companion or I use the door behind the seat at the front of the wagon to go inside, retrieve, and then distribute lunch which consists of hardtack and dried fruit. We stop for the night only when it gets very dark. At that time, the knights see to the horses while Delora…the only one of us that knows anything about cooking…makes a stew out of potatoes, dried meat, and barley while she bakes bread in the coals to eat with it. After supper, Parfait and I get to work on our Crystallum with her using the energy granted by her repairs to cover the magical output of mine. She works outside the wagon, but Waltz and I stay inside. I must open the coffin to be able to see what cracks I am working on so I do not accidently kill my mother again, and in its own way this is more painful than my previous repairs.

Last time, I had only the memory of my mother and the pain she brought me, but now as I stare at her…it seems so much sharper than before. My mother is close enough to touch, and we have never been further apart. Only one of us will walk away from this…and I cannot help but remember how much I wished that she had loved me. Waltz keeps a sound barrier up as I rant against her, as I weep, and then he consoles me when either of us decides that I am done for the evening. The two of us have the only true bed in our camp inside the wagon, while everyone else beds down in bed rolls outside. The knights and Karma take turns guarding the camp while everyone else sleeps.

And then we do everything all over again the very next day.

There are a few variations. About once a week, Delora allows us to stop in a town to visit an inn for the night. According to her, we all need baths at least that often and we need to resupply foodstuff occasionally anyway. I find it a pleasant change to be fed roast chicken and vegetables or pies instead of stew for a change. If the weather is bad, she tries to find a farm with a barn the proprietors will allow us all to stay in for the night. She usually has me go with her to the farm house's door instead of one of the knights. Very few farmers refuse shelter to a pregnant woman that offers to pay for horse fodder and the use of their barn for the night.

There are also the interactions I have with my companions. One evening around the campfire, we are discussing the lessons I have had with a sword. "So, how good with a sword did you get?" Jurien asks me.

"I could manage to win about five in ten bouts with you, and about six in ten with Garlan," I admit. "His weaknesses are a little easier to exploit than yours. I've only managed to beat Klaude once."

Garlan blinks, and nearly drops his bread into his stew. "You beat Karma once?! Neither of us _ever_ have."

"And how was this possible?" Klaude himself, still in his dress as I want to do a little more repair work before dismissing his curse, asks.

"You were trying to train me to ignore distractions by attempting to distract me…and I turned the tables on you," I tell him.

"And you managed this by...?" he asks.

"By inferring that I had figured out how you had gotten your curse, and I presented the situation in the most unfavorable light possible," I admit.

"Oh," he says, uncomfortably shifting on the log he is using for a chair. "That would explain it."

"Distractions can make one dead," I say with a small, sly smile.

"They can indeed, Princess," he admits.

I note that he does not ask me how I know how he got his curse. He probably does not want to discuss it in relative public.

I am certain that everyone finds it odd that I know them so well when they do not know much about me, but while I answer a lot of questions that does not mean that I do not ask them as well.

"Can you sew, Jurien?" I ask her, one day when the knight is riding on the seat beside me. Parfait decided to go to the back to take a nap, and Jurien switched from her horse to beside me to drive the wagon.

"Why do you ask?" the knight replies.

"I saw you impersonating a seamstress, once," I explain. "That's how you sneaked into the palace two cycles ago, as a seamstress to help get my wedding dress sewn on time for the wedding. I was wondering if you could actually sew, or if a bolt of cloth was merely a convenient place for you to hide your sword."

"…I actually can sew, but I prefer not to," Jurien tells me. "I hope that if I bothered to help make you something to wear, you treated my efforts appropriately."

I nod. "It was covered with the blood of my enemies by the time I left the throne room after my wedding."

And then Jurien breaks out in laughter. "Then you treated my efforts appropriately."

"Well, we held Alcaster's execution at my wedding that time," I explain, "and Fritz killed Myth several feet away from me before that."

"You really are a firebrand of a princess, aren't you," Jurien chuckles.

Waltz, who is currently riding beside us, also laughs. "And it was a good indication of what our married life would be like. She hasn't let me get bored yet."

"I take it that that does not disappoint you," I tell him.

"I've never been disappointed by you yet," my husband tells me. "You are always more than worth the trouble you attract."

"I _do_ attract a lot of that, don't I?" I muse.

Jurien barks another laugh. "Enough of it for me to put on a dress and sew things, apparently. No one has been successful in that since I was a child. So…yes, you do attract trouble Princess."

However, sometimes conversations are not quite so pleasant.

"Sometimes, I just wish the two of you would just stop it," I sigh after stopping for the night. With nearly everyone else is engaged in camp chores, I had handed Klaude and Chevalier several rabbits I had caught to contribute to supper. It seems a little odd to be using my second sight to find rabbits that I can drag out of their dens to add to the meal, but I had felt like having fresh meat added to the stew tonight instead of salted. Both men had smiled and taken the game, but I had returned minutes later to hear them arguing instead of cleaning the animals. "The two of you seldom get along well."

"We did not mean to disturb you Princess," Chevalier says, before glancing over at Klaude. "Or at least, _I_ did not."

"If you are implying that I am attempting to exacerbate the princess in her delicate condition…" Klaude starts. 

"You're just impatient because you haven't gotten rid of your curse yet," Chevalier replies. "And it makes you upset that she gave _my_ curse priority."

Klaude opens his mouth for a retort, but I interrupt. "You did not know you were a doctor. If I had not ensured the return of your medical knowledge, you would have had no idea of what kind of medical supplies to bring along. The best shopping for such would be in the city itself, so I needed to get rid of your curse before we left."

"Oh," Chevalier says softly.

"Obviously, you still are not thinking clearly," Klaude interjects.

"He suffered a head injury," I point out. "For this point in time, he is actually doing fairly well. Most of the time, he proposes to you while you are trying to introduce yourself to him. He may not be dealing with the amnesia granted by the curse right now, but that does not mean that he was entirely unaffected by his injury."

Klaude blinks. "I…see your point."

Chevalier rubs at his head, but then grins at me. "I could understand disliking me for that, anyway, had it happened this time. I probably made such a brilliant display of romance that he wished that he really had been a woman, and then he simply stayed mad at me for months because of it."

I chuckle. "You made a complete fool of yourself, and got slapped repetitively by both him, and Delora."

Chevalier sighs. "At least grant me the odd fantasy for a few minutes before putting it upon the chopping block."

"If you two want to know the truth," I muse, "I think that you simply alike and different in all the wrong places, so affability is difficult for the two of you unless you share a common purpose."

"I don't really see what we have in common, but feel free to elaborate," Klaude responds.

"The 'window dressing' is very different," I tell them. "One a prince that can't seem but to excel at anything he does, and the other a physician that tries to help everyone he can, but you both got cursed for putting your own desires above your obligations to others."

The doctor blinks, glancing at the man beside him. "I could believe that of Klaude…."

Klaude looks a bit uneasy as I nod. "He was chasing young women, but not for the right reason. He was not seriously searching for a wife, for someone to love for the rest of his life; he just loved the thrill of the chase. When he caught a beautiful girl, he never stayed with her for long. It might only be a few weeks before he lost interest, as if he honestly thought that he could tell everything there was to know about a person in that time and the thrilling mysteries were gone. Then, he would leave one lover, to search for the next. When he set eyes on a beautiful witch, and pulled the same stunt before finding out what she was…."

"You know everything, don't you?" Klaude asks quietly.

"Even about the woman with the beautiful smile that did not break your curse," I tell him softly. "She couldn't do it. It was the spell that attracted her to you. Do you think that all of those lovers of yours actually loved you, or even truly liked you as a person? Do you think it was possible that they could have done so when you never gave them a chance to get to know you? They were enamored with your position, wealth, and looks…though being attached to even that much was still enough to cause them pain when you abandoned them. Marriages to princes, especially handsome ones, are…romanticized. There is simply the 'happily ever after,' as if marrying a prince meant that all their struggles would disappear."

And I honestly cannot fathom how that particular concept came about, that becoming a member of the royal family would solve more problems than it would cause. After all, all of Waltz's troubles did not disappear when he married me. Throughout the cycles, Ophelia had to experience heartache and danger she would not have had if she had not married my father. Rod bears up reasonably well, but his new station did not get him the girl he had wanted. Emelaigne has considerable difficulties with her new role.

It has to be a result of those accursed fairytales. Both witches and stepmothers are painted as evil, in addition to unrealistic outcomes of life being easy once the protagonist marries into a royal family. I have no idea what was going on in Grimm's head when he wrote them.

"You do know everything," Klaude says, leaning against a tree. "I…never really thought of it like that, though…that I never gave anyone a chance to truly love me."

I nod. "It was all just as show, without any depth to it. You did not give yourself a chance to love anyone either…until you succeeded only to find that she was unable to love you. Your selfishness earned you a curse and the loss of a woman that you loved."

He is silent for a moment. "Princess," he starts slowly, "back when you told me I could come along, you…suggested…that one way to end my curse on my own was to find a cursed maiden that might fall in love with me. Did it happen? Did…was I ever able to break my curse, to love and be loved?"

"Yes," I admit. "But events…did not line up properly for that to be a possibility this time…or at least, not with the same girl."

"She ran off with another man at the start of the cycle?" he guesses.

"In a nutshell, yes," I reply. This is the part I hope to not have to elaborate on, so I turn to Chevalier next. "And you are something of an oxymoron, as you attempt to care for others, but then neglect those that need you the most. If you were truly unselfish, you would have been more careful about how you spent your resources so you could help more people."

Chevalier stares at me for a moment. "But some of the patients I treat really can't pay, and they needed me!"

I purse my lips for a moment, and choose an example. "When we were in the Marchen, I once saw you treating a very sick man. Nothing you had at your disposal could cure him; he needed expensive medicine. Even with your own personal funds and what Parfait had to contribute, it was still not enough. It was only when I gave what I had as well that the medicine could be purchased. With it, he was able to recover, and when he was leaving he offered to pay you with what he had. You refused payment, but I always wondered…what would you have done if _another_ patient in the same condition presented himself that evening, one that had even less as far as finances were concerned? You had not taken payment, so you would have had no way to get the medication to treat him. He would had suffered, perhaps even died, because you had refused compensation for your services from the previous patient. You would have contributed to his death."

And the doctor appears shaken at that. "I…I guess…."

" _Why_ do you refuse payment Chevalier, even from patients that can quite clearly afford it?" I ask. "Are you any less worthy of compensation for your professional services than a military officer, or an architect?"

"The logical answer to that question is no…and I do notice that you chose comparisons in which people could die if the practitioner made an error grievous enough…but…" he tries to explain.

"But you enjoy being _seen_ as generous," I answer for him. "If you were truly generous and wanted to help as many people as possible, you would accept fair payment from anyone able to pay in order to have a way to care for not only yourself, but the patients that actually _are_ unable to pay. You desireto be _seen_ as magnanimous, even when it hurts you personally, even when your patient is wealthy. It was all just as show, without any depth to it…just like what Karma use to do…and it burned you as much as it did him. You gave your engagement ring to the Witch Doctor to cure a noble, and instead of charging him coin to replace it, you refused compensation…creating the circumstances in which your relationship with your fiancée ended. That desire to be _seen_ as generous in lieu of the actual quality, your own brand of selfishness, earned you a curse and the loss of a woman that you loved."

The doctor is silent for a long moment. "She…she shouldn't have…."

I nod. After all, Bria was at fault too, for choosing to sleep with that noble when she had been trying to collect payment from him in order to pay her and Chevalier's bills. If I had to guess, she had been fed up with him for a long time, and giving his engagement ring—the symbol of their commitment to each other—without asking anything in turn had been the final straw. Bria had lost all respect for Chevalier when he had disrespected their own bond in such a way, and had then proceeded to damage their bond past repair. "No, she shouldn't have," I answer him. "She was engaged to you, and if she had wanted to leave you, she should have been honest and open about it instead of jumping into bed with the man you had just paid a high price to cure. But relationships rarely fall apart because of only one person; the fault is typically shared.

"If you ever _do_ want a relationship with a different woman," I continue, "you will have to make some adjustments. Any woman that marries a doctor does so knowing that he will leave her on special occasions and in the middle of the night to care for his patients, but very few will put up with both that _and_ poverty. In return for your absences, she will expect financial stability, that both she and your children will be free from want. Whatever attentions or resources you grant her during your courtship, she will assume that you would grant similar efforts to caring for your own children."

And Chevalier looks like I have just hit him with a brick, stunned, as he realizes that Bria probably thought that he would neglect to take care of their children, had they married and had any. He takes a deep breath. "I…I don't know if I can change."

I sigh. He was just as addicted to being seen as generous as Klaude was to the thrill of the chase. "You do have a few options, if you are going to avoid abject poverty yourself while maintaining your own ability to help people. First, have an apprentice or assistant of some sort handle payment. You have taken Annice as an apprentice before. I have no idea if she is particularly good with handling coin and bookkeeping or not, but anything is an improvement on your lack of skill in that area."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "And your other option? The first one would leave me unable to do anything but treat my patients' medical needs."

 _Exactly._ "The only other option I can think of would be to join the priesthood, and practice medicine there. You would be able to work knowing that your patients have only given what they can afford for your services. I would expect you to be very busy…I do not know of any other doctors there, though there are members of many learned professions within the temple. I doubt that they would turn down a physician. You would be able to dedicate yourself to charity, essentially, without worry for your own needs…or the needs of your own family if you choose to marry one day. You would never get rich there, but the families of priests are given food allotment and shelter, though the priest is expected to 'pull his weight' in temple service." And for some reason, I feel that I have just doomed the entire priesthood to an endless source of terrible puns. At least Chevalier is more than worth putting up with, for his medical skills alone.

"Just out of curiosity, Princess," Klaude breaks in, "how, exactly, are the priests able to afford charity when the parishioners only give what they wish to give for services? I have always wondered."

"They own a good deal of investment properties that they collect rent from," I answer. And that is where a good portion of the temple's income originates. It is not that everyone gives substandard offerings, but expenditures are higher than the value of the offerings given. The temple also runs an orphanage, and a home for elderly that have no family to care for them.

"And you know this because…?" Chevalier wants to know.

"The investment properties are taxed, if at a more favorable rate than those owned by private individuals, but the 'gifts' given directly to the priests are not," I answer. "It was not all protocol and dancing lessons. Princesses in Angielle are taught about taxes and government structure as well." I turn from Chevalier to look at Klaude a little oddly. "Surely your own education covered such things."

The Brugantian prince gives me a somewhat embarrassed smile. "I am sure that it did. I…just did not pay as much attention to lessons in which I would have to memorize things."

I sigh. "You _do_ prefer to make it up as you go along, and subtleties are not your strong suite either. Sometimes, you simply fail at taking appropriate precautions." _Like in telling me that you might transform into a beast so I could recognize you!_

He is silent for a moment. "Obviously, I did something you would consider…ill-advised at some point."

I shake my head at him. "If I told you what it was, I am certain you would wish that I had not told you. You are in no danger of making the same mistake, now." Not when his curse will be gone soon.

"And how do you know us so well, Princess?" Chevalier thinks to ask. "Some of the information you have seems rather…personal…for Klaude or I to have shared it."

I nod, having expected this. "When I am cursed in the Marchen, Parfait suggests that I partner with someone to help find opportunities to break my curse. I've partnered with both of you before, and we've ended up pretty close." I think for a moment. "Though I will admit, that it is much easier to help Chevalier with his curse than you with yours, Klaude. Sometimes he even manages it completely on his own. I do not 'find out' that I merely have to wait until I turn eighteen to help _everyone_ with their curses until relatively late in the cycles."

"Speaking of which," Klaude asks, "when exactly are you going to try to help me with mine?"

I smile at him. "When the Tenebrarum is a little more stable, probably in a few days. I was planning to work on it some more after supper…some of which is still lying there waiting to be cleaned and put into the stew." I nod at the rabbits that are still sitting on the stump where I left them.

This makes Chevalier grin as he turns around to look at Klaude. "And I have never heard better motivation for why you should help me clean them. The princess wishes to be fed her supper before she starts working toward ending your curse, and I find that a most reasonable request."

Klaude sighs and picks up one of the rabbits up. "Fine. I clean one, you clean the other."

…..

We have been on the road for two weeks before we run into any significant problems at all. We have left the main road to journey towards Clearwater's Edge, the compass directing us towards Myth's child just starting to wake to point us in the correct direction, before we run into our first bandits. About a dozen of them appear to try to collect a 'toll' from us.

"It might have been simpler to just pay them," Garlan admits from atop his horse as he rides beside me, after we are well past the stunned former bandits.

"As stingy as Delora can be with coin?" I ask.

"Well…you may have a point in that," Garlan agrees. "Still, I do have to admit that they had never tried to rob a party like ours."

"I am sure that they were unused to being laughed at," I agree. After stating that they were collecting 'toll' from travelers, I had asked them if the collections were being put towards patrols to keep the road clear of thieves that wished to rob travelers. That was when Parfait started giggling from beside me on the wagon seat, and as the conversation continued in that line Delora had started laughing as well. When the bandits' leader had tried threatening us noting that we had only four swords while he had a dozen, Klaude who is now dressed as a man as I have rid him of his curse, suggested that the bandits be turned into sheep.

From that point, the bandits began to look uneasy as we bandied several different suggestions, before the one with the most brains in the bunch yelled 'witch' and tried to run before Waltz immobilized them all in air as thick as jelly. And I was left with the task of deciding what to do with them.

The law in Angielle has prison as sentence for highwaymen instead of death…unless they are also convicted of assault or murder…so I could not seriously consider killing them. We did not have the time to transport them to the closest authorities. So, I was left with giving them a curse that would prevent them from committing further crimes.

"It was certainly an interesting way of dealing with criminals, Princess," Garlan admits. "Even knowing as many cursed people as I do…this one has potential to reform individuals."

"In a way," I admit. The curse I cast would give them injuries equal to those they gave others unless they were fighting in the defense of lives, and would age them if they stole. For example, if they stole an object worth a year's income of an unskilled laborer, they would age a year. Their thefts would cut their own lives short, if they continued to steal. If they continued their current occupation of theft, their lives would be…quite short. "Such penalties can protect others from them, but they do not change the hearts and minds of the cursed. They might test the curse to see if I spoke the truth, but once they are sure of their new situations, only a man with a death wish would continue to steal. They will live honestly because the cost of doing otherwise is too great…but sometimes hearts change to fit actions as the mind tries to rationalize why those actions are taken."

Garlan nods, and then is silent as Jurien rides up next to us. "Telling more stories, Princess?" she asks. "Garlan seems fascinated."

I smile at her. I have become something of a storyteller on this journey, recounting events from previous cycles to my friends. It breaks the monotony of travel, and gives them a chance to get to know me as I know them.

"Not exactly," Garlan admits to her. "Though I would not be opposed to one."

"What kind would you like to hear?" I ask, amiably.

Garlan frowns for a moment. "Well…you usually only talk about 'happy' things, though you have hinted that some terrible things happened as well."

And I sense opportunity. "Do you really want me to tell you about the time you drowned in your own blood saving Jurien from Mother after she got loose once?" I ask Garlan, and his eyes open wide in shock. "You were trying to tell Jurien something, but you were unsuccessful in doing so before you died."

"He _what_?" Jurien asks, staring at Garlan who is now a little pale. "Lan, you…you…what were you trying to tell me?" she asks almost to quietly for me to hear.

"But I don't remember this happening!" he protests.

"I think what she means is that, if it was your last chance to say something to her," I say, "what would you tell her? If you wish privacy for…whatever it is…I do not think she would mind falling to the back of the caravan to talk with you."

Jurien looks at Garlan expectantly, and he swallows hard. "That…that might be best," he admits.

Jurien nods, and turns her horse aside to let the wagon pass her as she falls to the back of the group. Garlan looks up at me warily. "Tell her," I say to him. "The only time she takes this well is when it's coming directly from you."

"She…she might…" he tries to say while nervously rubbing the back of his head.

"You _both_ asked me to do this, to give you a shove, during the last cycle," I tell him. "You were apart nearly the entire time, and she missed you."

"She missed me?" the knight says, looking suddenly hopeful, and I smile at him.

"Yes, she did," I tell him. "She told me that she missed you every now and then…only when her heart was beating."

Some of the color returns to his face as he takes a deep breath. "All right. Here it goes then," he says, still somewhat nervous as he turns his own horse to join Jurien.

The pair spend the rest of the afternoon together, at the end of the group behind the wagon. When we finally stop for the night, they appear to be still canoodling as they see to the horses, ignoring the rest of us as if we were not there. In return, the rest of us ignore them in turn to give them as much privacy as the situation allows.

"I _thought_ there might be something going on between those two," Delora admits, sitting down beside me as she hands one of the bowls of stew she carries to me while keeping the second for herself.

I nod my thanks to her as I take my supper. "He is usually too nervous to tell her what she means to him, afraid that he will lose her friendship if she rejects his interest. Whenever he _is_ able to tell her, something like this happens," I say as I glance at the couple that is taking more than the usual time in unharnessing the wagon's horses and rubbing them down for the night.

"Well, thank you for that," Klaude admits as he abandons a horse brush for his own supper. "I've been trying to get him to confess for quite some time…but you probably already know that."

I nod happily. "And I owe you and Delora a thank you as well."

"For what?" Klaude asks, curious.

"I have no idea, and I really wish that I knew," I confess.

Delora blinks. "That…is a little odd to not know what you are thanking us for."

"You two were sent to Cedel to ask Regius to come help me with my task," I explain. "Due to local politics, it was better that my emissaries not be obviously linked to me, so you used the story that Klaude was showing his 'lady love' the world. Regius agreed to help, so obviously the two of you cooperated long enough to get his aid, but whatever else you two did entertained Chaos enough that he granted Waltz more memories during the transition to this time cycle than he had had last time. Needless to say…I am quite curious as to what you two did that amused _that_ god so much that he decided to grant favors."

Klaude looks shocked. "You mean that after I got cursed for flirting with a witch, I had to…."

I laugh. "Irony follows you wherever you go. Delora was not pleased with the arrangement either."

"I should say not," Delora admits. "How did you get me to agree to such a thing?"

"It was our one chance to get the help we needed to destroy Hildyr," I deadpan.

My second favorite witch sighs. "Well, at least that explains it."

"But it still does not tell me what it was that you two got into during that time," I tell them. "I wish that I knew. It must have been hilarious, whatever it was."

Delora and Klaude look at each other. "If you could do anything and not have to live with the results, what would you do?" Delora asks. "We both had to have known that another cycle would start."

Klaude thinks for a minute. "You know," he admits, "I always kind of wanted to start an international incident, just to see what would happen. I would not do anything to harm Brugantia, but if I had known that there would be no consequences…."

"And I am not forgetting your own mischievous nature, Delora," I tell her. "You certainly drug me around with a broom often enough."

"Should I be worried about having done that to you?" she asks me.

"Not after I sent you out with Klaude," I tell her. "I even suggested a good pet name he could use for you. That was probably revenge enough."

"I still find this entire situation very strange," Klaude admits.

From behind us, I hear my husband laugh. "You find it strange, and I woke one day after what I had thought a bizarre but vivid dream to find myself married to a childhood friend," Waltz says as he sits down next to me.

"You win that one," Klaude admits.

"I take it you still do not regret it?" I ask playfully.

"You might give me grey hairs before my time," Waltz admits, "but I never will regret marrying you."

…


	61. In the Wake of Revenge

**Chapter 61. In the Wake of Revenge**

The compass Waltz made is mostly holding steady in one direction now, and as best as we can tell, we are getting very close to our destination. The sun is starting to set behind the horizon, but when Delora asks if I want to stop, I have to tell her that we need to keep going.

"There's something odd happening with the compass," Waltz explains to her from beside me. "Every now and then, it quivers and turns red…like it is trying to reset to its original state. The only reason it would do that is if…."

"Is if there is no more time to waste," Parfait answers, sitting on a horse tonight. "If the child was dead, that compass would revert to its original components. So that means…."

"That we need to go faster," Delora nods, starting to cast spells. She hangs balls of light around the wagon and over the horses' heads so they can see, and Parfait rides around to touch each of the animals to rid them of their fatigue, and the whinnies from the horses tell us that they are rearing to go and they all pick up the pace.

With that done, Delora rides back up to talk to me. "When we get there, I'm going with you," she tells me.

"The man has tried to kill Lucette twice!" Waltz says in protest.

"She's wearing an illusion; he won't recognize her," Delora tells my husband. And it is true; now I am the only one in the group that still wears a disguise. I am the only one that needs it, as even here people might recognize the similarity to my mother's face. "He'll be more on edge if there are a lot of people."

"What if Myth was right, that breaking the curse will kill the man, that the curse is keeping him alive in some way?" I ask. "Can I do it without becoming corrupted myself? Would it be using magic to kill a human?"

And the other two witches pause, and look at each other. "If he agrees to it, yes you could still dismiss the curse," Waltz finally answers. "If he agrees to sacrifice his life to save his granddaughter, allowing that sacrifice would not be considered causing harm because doing so was his choice."

And I nod, relieved. If Myth was not correct, then it does not matter. If he was correct, then I have to let my assassin know what the price of his granddaughter's life really is. From what I could tell about the man, it is likely he would still agree. If he had tried attacking me, I doubt the man values his own life very highly.

"Delora can come with me, Waltz, and if the child is visibly in peril we can take Chevalier as well," I tell my husband. If the child is ill or injured, showing up with a doctor is probably the fastest way to get to see her. "You would be so protective of me, you might make him suspicious before I know what is going on."

My husband opens his mouth to protest, but then shuts it again and sighs. "Just be careful," he finally tells me.

"As careful as I can be, given the situation," I tell him.

"I would worry less if you got into fewer dangerous situations," Waltz deadpans.

"I'm afraid that I cannot do anything about that right now," I admit.

"I know," he sighs. And we travel on.

And then I sense it. It's a faint whiff of a foul odor when I star to search for signs of magic, but when I use my second sight, the stench becomes practically overwhelming. I let it go before I get nauseous enough to vomit, my hands grasping my knees so tightly my knuckles turn white.

"What is it?" Waltz asks, concerned.

"I think we are getting close," I tell him. "I…I have never smelled a curse quite like this." It smells better when the privy cleaners come to clear out the palaces privies every year. It is a magnified version of what Rod's curse had smelled like. And from that alone, I know that this curse is capable of causing death. It had not smelled like this when I saw my assassin in his cell. The curse had looked black, but not virulent…a curse that had served its purpose. If it smells this bad now, I can only assume that it is preparing to kill.

The sun is setting in full as we finally come to a small collection of buildings. There is a barn, a garden, and a small cottage. Delora shuts her magical lights off before we come into the yard, and wastes no time in dismounting her horse before helping me out of the wagon as well. Taking a deep breath, I join her and walk up to the cottage door. Delora has her hand up to knock, but the door opens before she can.

And there stands the very same man that has tried to kill me twice, the greying man with a rugged face. Instead of palace livery, this time he wears the coarse clothing of a woodsman. I cannot help but stare at him for a moment, unable to speak. "Travelers?" the woodsman says, looking at all of us. "You want to stay the night in the barn, I suppose. I really do not care what you do, but expect no further hospitality from me. My granddaughter is very ill, and…."

"We have a doctor with us," I interrupt the woodsman, and his eyes light up at once. "He would certainly be willing to…."

And now I am the one interrupted. "A doctor? What are you waiting for? Bring him in here at once!" he says.

"Chevalier," Delora yells at our companions. "There's a sick child here. Get you bag and get in here, now!"

Chevalier nods, and wastes no time in getting his medical bag out of the wagon and rushing over to us. Then, the woodsman leaves the door wide open as he goes back inside, and Chevalier, Delora, and I follow the woodsman into the small cottage. The last few rays of sunlight filter through the open windows, and embers glow in the fireplace giving the single-room building dim lighting. Chevalier goes immediately to the corner of the room that holds a bed, from whence I can clearly hear labored breathing.

The woodsman kneels beside the bed, taking a child's hand into his before Chevalier gestures for him to move so he can get a better look. "There's a doctor here, Nieva. He's going to help…tell him what is wrong," the woodsman says as he moves out of the doctor's way.

I walk closer to the foot of the bed. A small girl, perhaps six or seven years of age, lies on top of the bed covered in only a light sheet, but her face is still covered in sweat. She appears pale, her chest moving up and down rapidly as she breathes. "There's something heavy on me," the child whimpers. "My shoulder hurts…and my jaw."

A grim expression settles over Chevalier's face as he begins to examine the child, and even I can tell that she is in very serious condition. Even in the dim light I can see a certain delicateness of features I recognize, and a closer look shows her hair to be a dark green though her eyes are bright blue. And I know…this is Myth's daughter that the woodsman had spoken of during his interrogation. Fairly certain the curse her grandfather had possessed as a prisoner is affecting the child, I look with my second sight and the colors of my vision shift.

The stench does not affect me as much since I am prepared for it this time, but it is full force now. Visually speaking, Chevalier appears a normal human yellow, but the girl is light blue as her magic has yet to manifest…as I knew she would appear…but something shifting and black connects her and her grandfather. A dark smoke issues from the older man and is absorbed by the girl's body, and speckles of sunlight issue from her to imbed themselves in the man.

"What kind of curse…" I start, trailing off as I let my magic go. "I have never seen one like this."

The woodsman's head comes up, his attention shifting from Chevalier to me. "You are a witch," he whispers.

"And your granddaughter is half-blood witch, as am I," I answer.

He is quiet for a moment. "That was not her mother's choice…but if it motivates you or your doctor to save her life, maybe it is good for something."

In a few minutes, Chevalier finishes his examination, and beckons the rest of us to the corner of the room away from the girl. "It's her heart," he says, solemn. "I have never seen this in someone so young, but…there is nothing to be done except to keep her comfortable."

"Is there any chance of her survival at all?" the woodsman asks, his voice cracking.

"It is very slim…practically nonexistent," Chevalier replies. "I can give her herbs for her pain, but unfortunately that is all I can do."

The men are silent for a moment. "Chevalier," I ask as it starts to make sense, "is this a condition that you might expect to find in someone her grandfather's age?" If so, the curse is forcing the child to suffer her grandfather's heart problem…and that is why Myth was so sure that the man would die if I broke the curse to save the child. Once the curse is broken, the woodsman will suffer his own ill health and perish from it.

My doctor nods. "Yes, it would be much more likely then."

The woodsman squeezes his eyes shut, and sinks into a chair. "Not again," he whispers. "The gods have no mercy."

 _Chaos has at least a little…he effectively sent me here._ "Your curse is affecting your granddaughter. I can see that much on my own," I tell him. "Tell me about it."

"There is nothing you can do," the woodsman says, his eyes again open but staring at the floor. "There is nothing anyone can do."

"I have a rare gift that allows me to…mitigate…curses," I tell him, unsure how he will react if he knows that I am the Bearer that can dispel them completely. Every other time I have seen this man, he has tried to kill me and for all I know he may try again if he knows who I am before he realizes that I am capable of saving his granddaughter. "But I have to know exactly what I am dealing with before I wade in. You need to tell me everything." I could dispel the curse with ease…but he needs to know what effects its reversal might have; he has to know and accept the consequences before I can do this. If he tells me that he does not consider experiencing death harm when his other option is seeing his granddaughter die…I would be able to save her.

"You will not like anything I say," he warns me, and then pauses. "Do you have a reason, any reason, to hate Hildyr?"

For some reason, it always comes back to my mother. "She denied me a mother," I say, even though it is only a partial truth…and yet, it is the full truth. In spite of giving me birth, she was never what I had longed for her to be. She had never truly loved me. "She murdered my grandfather. She tried to take my father as well." At least the second part is completely true. She had killed my father's father, and has killed my father before. In addition to that, she tried to deny me my father's affections. "No matter what…I can't seem to escape the effects she has had on my life." Even now she lies as if in state, but very much alive, in a coffin that I am transporting to her final demise. So much blood, sweat, and tears have gone into my one chance to forever rid myself of her. "She did other things to me…to my family. I doubt many people have more right to hate her than I do."

And I have to wonder why I do not hate her. I should. I have every right to. But instead of hate…there is pain when I think of her. Regret, sorrow, an unspeakable emptiness where love should have been…but not hate.

"If that is the case…you might have some reason to want to help me; she is the one that cursed us." The woodsman's head comes up, his eyes meeting mine as if he is not sure if he should dare to hope. "But I am unable to pay you…my granddaughter is my only valuable. But even if you wanted her as an apprentice or some such…at least…at least she would be alive…and away from here. If she dies, I will only have vengeance left."

"Payment is immaterial, and it is only reasonable that I should thank you in some way for your hospitality in letting my party stay," I tell him. "She will need training one day, should she live long enough for her magic to manifest at the age of eighteen. I currently see no reason to separate the two of you before then. But I still need to know what happened before that is even relevant. If what is happening is what I think it is, my interference could have a dangerous side effect."

The woodsman nods. "It…started before the Great War. During the Witch Hunt before the war, one night there was a pounding on my door. It was a boy and girl, twin witches with dark green hair that begged me to let them in…to hide them from the mob that was chasing them. The girl appeared injured, unable to go much further, so hiding was her only hope of survival.

"My family was in the house at the time. I had a wife, a daughter, and two sons…and I knew that if the mob found them my own children might be killed by mistake as well if I let the witches into the house. So, I put them in the barn. They were only children, and I had nothing against them."

His eyes drop from mine, and he pauses as if he knows that the next portion of the story will not endear him to me. "The mob came soon after, intent on killing the witches. They demanded to know where the witches had gone, told me that they would kill my family if I tried to hide them. I am not proud of this, but I did not want to risk that they were bluffing, and I directed them to the barn. I told them that I had been afraid to deny the witches shelter, afraid that they might harm my family if I refused them…as if I had been afraid of terrified children that only wanted to hide. It was a lie I offered up to defend myself, and my own family.

"They did not catch the boy…I think he managed to hide himself…but they did catch the wounded girl. I can still hear her screams, begging, in my dreams sometimes, crying that she never hurt anyone at all before she was killed…but I don't know what else I could have reasonably done. My own family would have been in danger, had I done anything else…but my actions from that day killed them all anyway. I should have taken my chances with the mob, lied and said that the witches had gone on. I have been paying for the sin of betraying witch children to a human horde ever since.

"The witches were taking revenge on those they considered responsible in the Witch Hunt, years later. One day, the boy came back nearly grown, with his master…Hildyr herself." The woodsman takes a shuddering breath before he can continue. "We tried running, but he caught us in some magical web and…forced himself on my daughter, making me listen to her screams, her begging as he had once helplessly listened to his sister's screams as she had been murdered. I was afraid that they would do even worse, that he might kill my daughter as well, and tried to explain that I had been afraid of the mob myself—afraid that they would kill my own family. That may have been a mistake, because when Hildyr cursed me, she said that I would live to watch my entire family die. If I were to become sick or injured, my wife or my descendants would suffer in my stead. As they died, my own life would be extended. She called it the Curse of the Vampire…and if there was a way to break it, she did not say what it was.

"I lost my wife shortly after my daughter gave birth to the witch's child…my sweet Nieva. The head of my axe slipped, but it passed through my leg without leaving a mark and my wife bled to death instead. About a year later, I fell down from a tree I was topping, but when I came home I found my first son in the barn a broken neck. He died a few days later. My second son grew ill and died about a week after I had visited a very sick friend, and early this year I found my daughter dead in bed. I don't even know what happened. I just woke one day to my granddaughter crying that her mother wasn't moving, that she wouldn't wake up…just like what happened to her uncle. She wanted to know if her mother was dead too…she wanted to know why, if she had done something wrong."

"And your granddaughter is all you have left," I whisper, shivering at the tale. Now I know how Myth became filled with such hatred, and my mother had encouraged it. Had his sister not died, had this woodsman not betrayed them, perhaps things could have been different. She might not have taken Myth as her apprentice, in spite of his power, if she had not thought him easy to corrupt given his other shortcomings.

My decisions are not the only ones that curve events. This simple woodsman may have shaped history, himself. How would the cycles have been different had Myth not been a player? Would my mother had risked hiding in the Tenebrarum had she no loyal apprentice to aid her escape from it? Would she have died instead…and there would have been no cycles?

If I had only been through that time period once, and had to live with the consequences of my first actions, Rod would probably be dead.

The woodsman nods, and as he speaks my thoughts return to the present. "And now Nieva is suffering the illness _I_ should be having right now."

"And you will have nothing left but the vengeance you wish to accomplish against Hildyr and her apprentice Myth if the child dies?" I ask.

The woodsman pauses. "I never knew his name. He has disappeared as far as I can tell, and I can only hope that he was killed in the War. Hildyr _was_ killed, but it would be possible for me to have vengeance on her blood the way she had hers on mine, though I doubt any such opportunity will ever arise."

"A friend of mine killed Myth," I tell him, and a grim satisfaction comes to his eyes. I do not mention that Hildyr herself is encased in the Tenebrarum, that it is carried by the wagon stored in his barn. "And you do not care that Princess Lucette is the daughter of a benevolent king, as well as that of Hildyr?"

"She will only turn into her mother, becoming what her mother was," the woodsman says gruffly. "It is better she dies now, before that happens."

"The same justification the townspeople used for killing that wounded girl, I am sure…and led to the murders of the rest of your family. Following the same logic, do you truly believe that your granddaughter will inevitably turn into her father?" I ask. "If that is what you really think, then perhaps…."

"My Nieva is _nothing_ like her father, if the monster can even be called that!" he practically roars as he stands, and the child on the other side of the room stirs, her breathing becoming harder, and the woodsman's own breath catches. "My baby…is there something you can do or not, witch?"

And I know that the child is growing weaker by the minute. I have to do something soon. "If I help, the child will live and you will suffer your own heart affliction," I tell him. "You will likely die, and there will be nothing I can do to save you."

"I don't care about dying myself, I should have been dead long ago and my family alive," he tells me, looking over toward the bed. "And she will be alone. I…have no one I could send her to. Even in town, they know what she will become and fear her. They know that she will find out that they have her aunt's blood on their hands, one day. I only consider it fortunate that no one has laid a hand on _her_ yet."

"I'll take her," Delora says, finally speaking up from behind me. "Hildyr took my daughter from me, and I have always longed for another. I will see her fed, clothed, and educated now, and trained as a witch when her magic manifests."

He stares at Delora for a moment. "Another witch?" he asks, and Delora nods. "I…yes, I appreciate anything you can do for Nieva. She is intelligent and kind like her mother and…deserves so much more than I could ever give her. I…have to believe that there are some good witches, for her sake." He then frowns. "But Hildyr said that no one, not even another witch—no matter how powerful—could do anything about my curse. How can you…" he trails off, looking at me again.

"Only the Tenebrarum Bearer can dispel curses," I tell him. "Who do you think you have been talking to?" I ask, dropping my illusion, and showing my own face.

His eyes widen in horror at first, then he sinks to his hands and knees before me as he begins to weep, knowing that he has just told me that he would kill me given the chance…and I am the only one that could save the child. His granddaughter's only hope wears the face of his worst enemy, the woman that slowly killed every other family member he had. Now I can truly understand why, when I first enter the Marchen after being cursed, the patrons there regard me with such fear and hate…and it sickens me.

Seeing my face, no one can help but be reminded of my mother. For her victims, it is even worse; they see her sneer as she destroys their lives, as she takes what is most precious to them.

And I have to ask him again, to have his consent for this, even though I am sure that his answer will still be the same. "Will you still accept the only aid I can offer, even though you now know who I am, even though the only way the girl lives is if you are allowed to die?" I ask, and he nods, unable to get any words out.

I take a deep breath, allowing the colors to return to my vision. I see his curse, jet black, and will it away. The stench dissipates as dark smoke and gems of light stop exchanging between the girl on the bed and the man before me, and the gems all return immediately to the girl and the smoke returns to her grandfather. Then, the woodsman begins to breathe heavily, and rolls to his back, clutching at his left arm and shoulder. Still…for a moment…he smiles through his pain. He knows that it means I have succeeded.

"Grandpa?" the child says, catching her breath as color returns to her cheeks, her expression relaxing from the relief of her physical pain only to be replaced by worry as she sees her grandfather on the floor. "Grandpa?" she asks again, climbing out of bed to run over to him. "I'm all better now…Grandpa, are you sick? But you are never sick," she says, wide-eyed.

The woodsman tries to restrain his pain from showing in his face. He is still breathing very heavily, but he manages to say, "Nieva, you will need to go with the woman in the purple dress tomorrow. She…she will be your new mother."

"But Grandpa…I…I want to stay with you," the child says, starting to cry.

"But I won't be here tomorrow, dearest," he tells her, gasping. "I'm going…to die, and there's nothing that can…stop that."

"Grandpa…" the child hiccups, starting to weep in earnest, "not you too!" In her young life, I realize that she was not only deprived of a father but she has seen her grandmother, mother, and uncles all die. She knows what death is…and is about to see it once more.

"But…but you will live…and I love you more than anything in this…world," he gets out, letting his left arm go long enough to use his right hand to brush tears and dark green hair from the child's cheeks before he looks up to meet my eyes. "Thank you for saving her, witch. Perhaps…perhaps the gods will…have a little…mercy for my sins, as…as you did."

"They have already shown some mercy, so you might hope for more," I tell him. "I was told by Chaos to find your granddaughter."

The woodsman's eyes widen in shock, but he is breathing so hard right now that he finds himself otherwise unable to respond as he fights the last battle of his life…a battle he knows he will lose…a battle I know that he has lost before. I remember the first time I met this man.

" _So, Your Highness," Varg says, as if bored with holding the unconscious intruder captive on the floor. "What do you want to do with him?"_

 _I wave him away, indifferently. "Something that doesn't involve getting blood on my dress. It is nearly time for lunch, and I would rather not upset my appetite."_

I realize that at that time, not to mention the second time he tried to kill me, the woodsman's granddaughter would have been dead. Myth had remembered that there was someone alive who would want to kill me, that was cursed so he could remember me, and had probably sent someone to offer the woodsman the chance. It would have been his final revenge against the man that had allowed his sister to die, using him as a pawn in an assassination attempt that had been meant to fail. I realize that the Alcaster and Myth had probably talked about using this woodsman for their own plots before I was cursed, probably moving him close to the city itself so he would be available when they wanted him once his granddaughter was dead, perhaps so they could foil an 'attempt' on my life in order to get me to trust them. Whenever I was cursed, this man was irrelevant, because they did not know where I was…until I walked into the palace two cycles ago and they found themselves needing to test me.

When I responded to the assassination attempt, I had to be in my role, pretending indifference, so I did not give my true self away…so my family would live. I had succeeded, killing the traitors, marrying the man I loved, and gaining his child.

But that all could have been different. If even one thing had gone wrong, I could have found myself married to Myth, having to stab him myself. Even though I have considered this question before, I still wonder…would I have tried to stab Myth before bedding him, and if I had waited until afterwards, would I be carrying his child now instead of Waltz's?

I shiver at the very thought, and then remember that the circumstances of my own birth were not all that different. But my father was able to love me anyway, even if he had not intended to ever have a child with my mother, even though he had been just as unwilling as this child's mother…and I find that I have a new appreciation for my father. He had never intended that I come into existence, yet when I appeared anyway, he still loved me even if he had been unable to show it for most of my childhood. Just as the woodsman loves his granddaughter so much, he considers his own life expendable for her sake.

I am fairly sure that Myth was unaware that he had ever had a daughter until I told him, in spite of what I had said to him on the matter, a daughter that was fated to be killed by his master's curse unless a Bearer intervened. I do find it slightly odd that he never gave consideration that it had been possible, but sometimes the nature of revenge blinds people as to how it might hurt them as much as it hurts the people they hate. If he had thought of it, even after the end of the war, Myth could have kept the woodsman in stasis so he would not die long enough for the Tenebrarum to have a Bearer once more. This would have kept Nieva alive until then. But her father had never given even the possibility of her existence the slightest consideration. It was a small wonder that Myth had not decided to kill Nieva's mother after he was otherwise done with her. It was probably his small decency of refraining from killing the girl he had just forced that had prompted my mother to show her apprentice what cruelty really was, leading to this horrific curse.

At least…at least Nieva had had a grandfather that loved her…and now the man is dying. And I cannot help but remember him as my would-be assassin, the man that almost killed my baby…the man that had made the very same mistake that Myth had. Both men had chosen revenge, and that revenge had required a high price from the innocent. What was it that I had told my sister, after the last time I had seen this man? Oh yes. _'You always have a choice, whether it be a hard or an easy one…and evil begets more evil. While there are always a few people that are nearly all good, and a few that are nearly completely evil, most others fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum with both good and evil tendencies and leaning towards one side or the other is an everyday choice.'_

This woodsman had been both good and evil, a villain and victim…and the perfect example of evil begetting more evil. His family had been murdered by my mother, and he chose to try to murder hers in return. He had known, when he tried to kill me during the last cycle, that I was carrying a child…and had decided to take actions that he thought would kill me anyway. When I had questioned him later, he appeared to feel some guilt at that, possibly remembering that his granddaughter certainly did not deserve to die for the sins of the man that had sired her.

But he had taken those actions anyway…and I cannot help but wonder if the gods will judge him for the actions he took during the last cycle, or the action he is taking in this one to willingly accept the reversal of the curse for the child's sake.

We move the woodsman to the bed, Chevalier gives him something for the pain, and it relaxes the older man. The child is allowed to curl up in the bed beside her grandfather, giving the man the only comfort she can as his breathing only worsens, becoming irregular, as he slips into unconsciousness.

"It won't be long now," Chevalier tells me. "Delora and I will remain, but you need to get some rest."

Delora nods at his words, from her chair beside the bed. "Very well," I say, suddenly feeling more tired than I ever have before, as if I weigh more than the palace itself. I open the door of the cottage, to find my husband standing there.

"Darling, are you…" he says, and then trails off noticing that I am wearing my own face.

I practically fall into his arms, and bury my face in his chest before I start to cry and I bleed magic into the air around me. He holds me, right beside the cottage, until I stop. When I do, I hear a child's voice calling for her grandpa but not the labored breathing of my would-be assassin, and I know that he is dead now.

"But we got here in time if the child is still…" Waltz starts, and I sigh.

"Come to the barn, and I will explain…the others will need to hear this, too," I tell him.

It is with a heavy heart that I know that I must now explain yet another of my mother's atrocities, and the grief that results from it will help me seal up yet more cracks in her prison.

My mother has given me little else but grief. She has given _everyone_ little else but grief.

…


	62. Buried in the Past

**Chapter 62. Buried in the Past**

In the morning, we pack the food items as they will be of use to no one else, and Delora gets the child's things together while the men dig a hole beside the other graves that lie in a shady grove near the house. Wanting to help, I find a stone to mark the grave, and then realize that I do not know the woodsman's name. Nieva only says that his name was 'Grandpa,' but I find the family name on the other stones. I finally use magic to cut and polish the rock so it shows a smooth face, and engrave it with 'Woodsman Garver, Devoted Grandfather, May He Find Peace.'

We bury him after an early breakfast, the first rays of the dawn lighting our way to the small cemetery where generations of the family rest. Even in the early light, Nieva appears pale, and she refuses to eat breakfast. She clutches a worn doll with a hand-carved wooden face as well as Delora's hand when her grandfather is lowered into the earth, and earth is used to fill the hole.

Parfait says a prayer for the woodsman's soul, and Waltz produces a bouquet of forget-me-nots from thin air to place on the man's grave. The gesture touches me, and he meets my eyes before glancing at the child. He remembers, he knows…. We both know that the woodsman had tried to kill me, tried to kill our own child…and we will never tell Nieva of it. Sometimes, the truth is best hidden.

"Nieva, it is time to go," Delora says gently when the rest of us are packed and prepared to leave. The child is still at the gravesite, hugging her doll.

Nieva takes a deep breath, and holds up her doll to her face. "I'm sorry, Gida," she tells her doll. "But I have to go now, and Grandpa…I don't want to leave Grandpa all alone." Then, Nieva places her doll on her grandfather's grave beside the forget-me-nots. "Goodbye," she softly says before she runs crying and is scooped up by Delora.

Delora puts the child on her horse, and climbs up after her. My second-favorite witch rides with one arm around her new daughter, and uses her other hand for her reigns. Then we continue on our journey, but we must stop in the village long enough to talk to the mayor to make the adoption official. We are pointed to the only inn, and Delora and I walk inside with the child while the others wait. Fortunately, the mayor is easy to find as he is present in the common room. 

"You want to adopt the little girl…Madame Delora," the portly man says, wiping the serving counter of the inn that he owns after Delora introduces herself and states our business. "That's mighty generous of you. It's a pity her grandfather passed."

"If we could get this done quickly," Delora says, smoothing the hair of the girl that is hugging her leg, as if Nieva is afraid Delora will disappear if she lets go. "We have business to be about."

"All right, all right," the Mayor says, putting the rag down to lift a box containing parchment up from under the counter, and selects one and begins to write. "You do know of the…circumstances…of that family though, correct? That the child is half-witch, that the whole family was cursed by Hildyr herself, and her grandfather forbade any of his children to marry because of it? He said he didn't want the curse spreading, you see."

"The curse died with her grandfather," Delora answers. "She has nothing more to fear from it."

"If you say so," he says, looking down, over the counter. "Nieva, was it?" he addresses the child. "Do you want to go with this nice lady and be her daughter, now?" He knows that Nieva has no other choice, and is at least trying to present her one option as a desirable one.

"Grandpa said I should," Nieva says quietly. "No one in town likes me, but she says she wants to be my mother. Her husband and daughter died just like my family did, and she wants us to be a family now." She knows that she has no other choice as well. "I…I think she will be nice to me."

And I can't help but take a deep breath at that, knowing that my mother was responsible for both the loss of Delora's daughter, and the deaths of Nieva's family. Everywhere I look, my mother has caused only pain. I can only pray that Delora and Nieva will find some solace from it in each other, and I am sure that eventually they both will. Right now, a child that has just lost the last of the family she had is clinging to the hope that the stranger that offered to take her in will simply 'be nice' to her.

That is all she dares to hope for.

The mayor grimaces, perhaps wishing that a child that had lost everything else could be offered something more reliable than being under the guardianship of a stranger that just happened to be passing through—but he will not offer Nieva anything better himself. "I'll put that down as a 'yes' under your consent to be adopted. Now child, as your family's only survivor you inherit all of the property. Because you are too young to take possession, it will be auctioned off, and you can come here to claim the proceeds when you turn sixteen by giving us a document I will be making out for you in just a minute. At that time, you would have the option to buy the property back for the price it sold for, or just take the money. If you do not come by the time you are twenty-one, you will be presumed dead and the coin will be split among everyone else that lives here in town. I wouldn't expect much coin though; people are still likely afraid of the area."

"But the curse is gone," Nieva says. "She got rid of it. She knew how."

"Of course, child," the mayor says absently, before looking up at Delora. "You will need to sign this document here on the line…I just need a few more pieces of information first. And what is your occupation, Madame?"

"I make potions…magical ones," she says, and I can tell she is starting to get irritated.

This gets the mayor to pause, and look back up at her. "Witch?" he asks quietly, his eyes shifting left and right before bending back to the parchment. "That makes sense…only another witch would take that child in, knowing what she is. She's certainly lucky that you came along. I'll…I'll put down…gods, this is a legal document." He pauses, thinking. "Will 'chemist' be an adequate pseudonym?"

Delora merely stares at him.

"Then that's what I'll put down," he says, scribbling. "Chemist. And where do you reside?"

"In the capitol," she says.

"Then…" he almost hesitates. "If I may ask…are the rumors true? Is the crown princess really dispelling curses cast by other witches?"

"She was," Delora says, nodding. Apparently, rumor travels faster than we do. Come to think of it, a few travelers have passed us along the road. Wagons go slower than horses without them do. "She is elsewhere now, though, completing the next phase of her training. If you have cursed that live here, I wouldn't send them to the capitol for their curses to be dispelled until she returns. If my understanding is correct, she intends to get rid of the Fairytale Curses entirely at some point, so they may not have to make the journey at all if they can wait long enough for her to figure out how to do so."

The mayor sighs in relief. "She is not her mother, then. That…is good to hear. If we must have a witch queen again one day, I'd rather it not be a corrupted one."

"You and everyone else," I remark.

He nods vigorously, and turns the parchment around and hands the quill pen to Delora so she can sign the document. "Out of curiosity Madame, are you also…" he tries to ask me.

"She's the witch that stopped the curse from making me so sick," Nieva pipes up. "I was all better after she cast her own spell. Grandpa said she saved me."

The mayor blinks. "I had heard that there was a witch healer, though I thought that it was supposed to be a cranky old woman. You aren't stopping in town for any length of time, are you? The miller's daughter is due any day now, and her previous three children were all stillborn after very hard labors. She is terrified that this one might be stillborn as well. I think her father and her husband would give anything to even a…I mean they would pay any price if she had even one surviving child."

 _Witch. He was going to say 'anything to even a witch.'_ He's mistaken me for the witch doctor, for Runia, but that may be just as well. The news of her death has not yet spread. And…I cannot do anything for a woman that fears losing yet another child. Feeling my own son as he starts to move about again, knowing his survival hangs on the condition that I arrive at my destination before he is born, it hurts to acknowledge that I cannot help a woman that has as good of a reason to fear a child's loss as I do. "I'm afraid not. And I'm new enough at this that the only illnesses I can treat very well are from the direct effects of magic…so unless she is suffering from an illness caused by magic, I cannot help her. Sometimes, I'm not sure how many people would want my help, anyway. Even Healers were killed in the Hunts. This town…does not seem particularly fond of my kind."

"Or we could be afraid that you are not fond of us, given the…history," the mayor murmurs. "Killing that girl was not something we were proud of, once heads cooled. Whatever else she was, she was still a child."

"You know that the murder of that girl is what allowed Hildyr to corrupt her brother so easily?" I ask. "You know that he went on to cause harm to others in his servitude to her? That he survived the war, and was caught by the crown princess as he was plotting to overthrow the king?"

"Not…not before you told me, aside from…" he trails off, looking at the child, before his eyes jerk away, as if he is afraid that Nieva might figure out that we are discussing her own history. He knows where that witch blood had come from. Nothing is really hidden in a small town like this. "He tried to overthrow the _king_?!"

I give him a dry smile. "He wanted a corrupt Tenebrarum Bearer ruling Angielle again, but fortunately, the crown princess was…uncooperative."

The color drains from the man's face. "Then thank the gods that she was willing to wait for the throne." He shakes himself, returning to the present. "If you learn to treat normal injuries and diseases as well, no town would shun you…no matter what price you charge for your services. There is always someone with no other hope."

And I wish that healing was a more common gift. If more witches could heal, it would help mend the rift between humans and witches. But I know that right now, there are no healers in Angielle at all.

"Is there anything else I need to sign?" Delora asks, turning the paper back toward the man for him to check.

"No, Madame," he says, dripping wax from a red candle onto the bottom before pressing the town seal into the wax. "Nieva is now legally your daughter. I hope…." He is quiet for a moment. "That girl that we killed…that was not _your_ daughter, was it?"

"No, Hildyr killed my daughter when I spoke against her," Delora says coolly, "but that girl you slaughtered was _someone's_ daughter. I do not believe that the guilt you carry is an adequate punishment for it…not when the entire town spurned this child simply for being half-witch. When we came in, I saw how no one would so much as look at her…not even the other children, and they would learn that behavior only from their own parents.

"None of you learned anything from your sin…murdering an innocent child!" Delora pronounces. "If you learned nothing from your actions, you more likely to repeat them…you would allow history to repeat itself, already knowing the consequences. _Angielle itself_ could have fallen under darkness due to your actions."

…

"You are right," I tell Delora quietly late that night, as we sit together by the campfire. Jurien is guarding the parameter of the camp, and only Delora, Parfait, and I remain awake. Well, Waltz remains up in the wagon as he waits for me and will sleep only when I have completed my work for the evening, but I told him that I wanted to talk to Delora a little first before starting repairs tonight. Delora is sitting up in her bedroll, but is unable to move anywhere, as Nieva fell asleep using Delora's thigh for a pillow.

"I am sure that I was, but about what?" Delora asks just as quietly, so as not to wake the child.

"That the humans learned nothing from the Witch Hunt," I tell her. "Some of them feel a bit guilty, the ones that killed children anyway, but they still spurn even half-bloods that have no magic yet simply because they will one day. This dramatically increases the risk of people repeating the Hunt someday, especially if the priests ignore what they were told."

"It does," Delora says soberly. "But it sounds like the priesthood itself will be destroyed if they ignore their orders. I do not know what might rise in its place. However, if something dramatic does not change, and soon, it would not surprise me if the Hunts occurred again within my lifetime. At least…with you in a place to become the next queen, you are in a unique position to keep that from happening. This is why no one laid a hand on you while you were a child after your mother was defeated. The corrupted hoped you would protect witches in your mother's…style, and the uncorrupted hoped that you would instead try to heal the distrust between humans and witches or at the very least punish the slaughter of the innocent. Both groups let you grow up untouched, knowing that if one interfered the other group surely would."

"Until you and Parfait decided that cursing me was worth the risk, and used a curse that would help hide me," I muse. "Is every town like the one we just left?" I ask, almost not wanting the answer.

"A lot of them are," Parfait admits to me. "A majority. There were a couple that were havens for witches during the start of the Hunt because the witches there were known to be good by their communities…but then the hunters came to those towns from elsewhere bent on destroying the witches…all witches. The objections of those townspeople were…dismissed by the hunters, and ignored when they tried appealing to the Crown."

"My grandfather ignored justice," I say sadly, "and my mother killed him for it…and Angielle broke into war because of it." A grim silence hangs over the three of us for a moment, before I ask the next question. "Why did the Hunt happen in the first place?"

Parfait flinches as if slapped. "Grimm wrote those tales, and I helped thinking that they would do not harm…."

"Reasonable people do not assume children's stories are based on true events, unless there is something else that points to them having a basis in fact," I say. "What happened that people would assume that the Fairytales had actually occurred?"

"It started out as isolation," Delora explains further. "It started out as discomfort…avoidance. The humans were not cruel at first, but we were uncomfortable to them and they thought that it was simply not worth it to get to know us as people. This started in my parents' and grandparents' times. In generations before, the humans were always asking us for things, and we complied. But…that took its toll on us.

"They ran the healers ragged, for one thing," Delora continues. "There were once many, but healing died out as the healers did not have time to attend to or even form their own families. They were too compassionate, and even healed ills the human doctors could have treated. No one guarded the healers, gave them stopping points, and that was a great failing. Then, the humans started leaving us alone, once the greatest gift we could give them was spent. By that time, being left alone seemed a pleasant change…but not enough people recognized how badly things could deteriorate if we did nothing at all for the humans. And then came the uneasiness; we were not like them, and we gave nothing to them. Circumvention became normal."

"And once isolation became normal," I decide, "and no one knew the witches as people, that is when they became susceptible to the hearsay caused by children's tales?"

"I really did not think that it would do the witches any harm," Parfait tries to explain again. "I thought that they would be recognized as wild tales to amuse children."

"What did you think about the tales painting fairies in a positive light?" I ask Parfait.

She closes her eyes for a moment, before she is able to look at me again. "I found it flattering that we were mentioned in a positive light. How could I not? I let it go to my head, and it clouded my judgement in the matter. If I had only known…."

"I am not suggesting that you did," I tell my friend. "You simply had insufficient experience with the depravity of mortals at the time."

Parfait sighs heavily. "That is certainly a nice way to say that I was naive."

"I am a princess," I tell her dryly. "They give us lessons in how to make even the worst things sound eloquent when coming out of our mouths. But sometimes being blunt saves time."

"You can certainly do either very well," Delora admits.

I look at Parfait again. "Did the fairies not help us at all…or did they try and fail?'

And Parfait looks faintly sick. "We were afraid," she admits in almost a whisper. "We were afraid that the humans would turn on us next. After all, with the exceptions of curses and healing, we do everything the witches do but only with a different power source. So relatively few of us did the right thing in trying to oppose the Hunt…not nearly enough of us did. We saw…and we did nothing." Parfait draws a deep breath. "We ran. It was not only me. We did nothing to help our witch friends when they needed us most, and when they started turning to corruption…we had to fight our former friends when they came after us for not helping them…which they viewed as complicity in their suffering, and I suppose that it was. We paid for not extending our hands in aid to our friends by having to shed their blood instead, and some of us died too. Running did not keep us from having to fight…it only postponed it, and changed who we had to battle."

"And it added fuel to the fire," I decide, "when the humans saw that the fairies were not lifting a finger to help the witches, they assumed that the fairies thought that they were doing the right thing by trying to exterminate the witches. According to my father, this is one of the reasons my grandfather did not intervene."

And Parfait's face is a map of shame. "I have no excuse," she admits. "I was supposed to lead the fairies…and I ignored the problems until they were so great that it was impossible to deal with them. It was too late. I…might have been a decent Bearer in a time of peace, but I took too much time to acknowledge that the problem had to be dealt with. I was hoping that people would wake up, and realize that what they were doing was irrational, wrong, evil…but I did nothing to further that reasoning."

Her hand had been off the tiller during a storm, and there had been no other leader to guide the ship. The Lucis only recognizes one fairy as its Bearer…no one else was capable of managing that responsibility…and as a consequence balance between the two Crystallum had been lost.

"Why did you not consult with the gods back then?" I ask, and Parfait looks startled at this question. "After all, you could have done so, and people have asked for divine intervention for things lesser than an ongoing massacre of the innocent."

"I…did not think of it," the fairy tells me, eyes wide. "I do not know if anyone else did. Perhaps…perhaps that is what Fulgur was wanting to do. Near the end of the Hunts, right before your mother killed the king, I had found out that there was a Brugantian party including a witch and a fairy that had been killed during the Hunt. We never found out what that message was, and before I knew it, Hildyr had murdered the king and made herself queen."

And I know that the Brugantian fairy had decided to die with the witch, rather than run or hide. Obviously, Fulgur picked his envoy well…it had to have been him since Alicula has been described to me as something of an airhead…though perhaps they should have been better armed. "And at that time, it became a moot point once Mother became corrupted," I sigh. "She had found her own solution. She stopped the Witch Hunts with the power of the throne, and then vengeance began."

"Vengeance did not begin at first," Delora admits. "The witches were largely so relieved that the Hunts were stopping, a lot of us…even the uncorrupted…let Hildyr's ends justify her means. Witches are bound against harming humans unless corrupted…but in theory that corruption can be repented from and banished. We hoped that that was what Hildyr had been intending, and perhaps it was at first. But in the aftermath of the Witch Hunt, there were cries for human blood. She created the Fairytale Curses…curses inspired by the tales that had served as the catalyst for murder."

"Perhaps Hildyr thought it justice, at first," Parfait admits. "The humans had punished them for events that had never happened, so the witches might as well commit the crimes they had already paid for. But not all of the witches agreed with her…methodology."

"Hildyr called a meeting to 'discuss concerns' regarding the new form of cursing," Delora says, her eyes haunted with the memory. "None of us knew going in that she was only looking to make an example of someone, to pick someone that spoke against her methods and take what was most precious. I did not think that when I walked into the meeting with my daughter that she would be in any danger. One of Hildyr's points was that innocent witch children had been slaughtered by humans necessitating our fighting back…so why would she kill one herself?"

"Because she needed to make an example of someone to make everyone else 'fall in line,'" I decide. "Because she knew somewhere deep down that what she was doing was wrong. She tried to justify herself by proving that 'anyone else' would react the way she had in her situation. You did not become corrupted like she wanted, Delora, but you remained useful as an example as to what could happen to those that so much as spoke against her. This is why she did not kill you in addition to your daughter."

Delora nods sadly, her eyes drifting down to where her new daughter is sleeping. "I wished that I _had_ died instead at the time. But…I know that there have been times when the two of you have needed me. My life has not been without purpose. And now, Nieva needs me."

"She does," I admit. "But do not think for a moment that even if you had not been there, that the rest of us would not have seen to her welfare. We would have ensured she found a home once this was all over. Waltz and I probably would have taken her, if nothing more suitable could be found. I am unsure if Father would have allowed us to adopt her, but taking her as a ward would not have been a problem."

"I wish that none of this had ever happened," Parfait almost whispers. "The Hunts, the Great War…none of it."

"From the sound of it," I decide, "the bonfire was already built when you and mother became Bearers. All it needed was a spark…and it came in the innocuous form of children's tales. Mother recognized the danger better than you did, but she took no actions to correct the actual problem. What she _should_ have done was found a way to make witches valued like Fulgur did. The people of Brugantia had no desire to destroy the safety hedge that protected them from violent raiders. The next best thing would have been to insist that the witches be the heroes in the stories at least as often as the fairies were, and used that request as her price for Grimm getting her help with any of the tales. Even that much could have mitigated the damage."

The fairy's eyes drift over to the wagon, where the Tenebrarum and her former friend are being kept. "Even missing or forgoing that option, she was more perceptive than I was. And now we must bring her to her judgement." She is silent for a long moment. "Was…in all of the cycles you experienced, did she ever show any signs that she ever wished that she might have taken different actions…that she regretted anything at all?"

"There's no part of your friend left," I say, "if that is your question."

The fairy sighs. "I had always wished that there might be…that there was some way to unlock everything that was ever good in her."

"She's dead," I say, exhausted. "I hoped differently, once, but…there is nothing capable of loving anyone within her."

"You seem so certain," Parfait tells me, half stating and half asking.

"There was one time that she said that she loved me, that everything she had done, she had done out of love," I admit slowly. "You were convinced that balance was impossible, and had just destroyed the Lucis. And before she died, that's what she said, but…." I take a deep breath. "Another time, she took my magic from me, to make herself more powerful when I refused to join her. The only thing I had asked in exchange was that she let Waltz go."

"She left you, her only child, as a husk," Parfait whispers in horror, and even Delora's eyes widen in shock.

I nod. "I was no longer capable of rational thought, of choice…of love," I say. "I'm…quite happy that Waltz cannot remember that one. He returned to serving her, just to remain near me, unable to leave me as long as I drew breath. As far as I am concerned, though, it proved that she had no love for me. I am unsure what the correct name for what she _did_ have for me really was…some kind of desire for possession perhaps…but it was not love."

Parfait shivers where she sits, in front of the roaring campfire. "Then…she truly is gone."

"What I cannot figure out," I say, "is why she did that, knowing that time was going to recycle since I had neither become corrupted nor taken her in for judgement. She _had_ to have known that after making me into a husk, there was no way that I would ever join her."

"But the knowledge of her doing that to you might have helped corrupt you," Delora admits. "She probably experiences the time loops just like the rest of us, not remembering what happened in past cycles."

"The outcome she suspected was that I would become corrupted in the upcoming cycle, but would allow her to die," I decide. "Then the cycles would stop, but without her. I remember her telling me once that she would not mind me being the Tenebrarum Bearer, if I had not been spoiled by your efforts, Parfait."

"She thought it the only option left," the fairy says. "She knew that she had to do something truly horrendous to corrupt you, so the cycles and your suffering would stop…with or without her in power. She knew that she had no ability to renegotiate the contract, with her stuck in the Tenebrarum for nearly all of each cycle. Perhaps she thought that you could still die in them, and that you might not be returned to the start of the cycle alive if you did."

And if I were to die, I do not know who might be the next Bearer…but it is certain that they would still not release Mother. My death would mean my mother's death as well. She had thought my success in holding off corruption impossible, she could not allow my death without causing her own. Perhaps she thought my sacrifice on Waltz's behalf evidence that I knew another cycle would begin, that I knew whatever she could do to me would not be permanent. Therefore, I had probably cycled more than once without becoming corrupted…that I was fighting my own corruption.

"She knew how much I was willing to sacrifice for Waltz that cycle," I admit, "and that he would give anything for me. She probably thought that I would become corrupt in the following cycle after suffering the pain of her actions, and corrupt him in turn…that we would then rule Angielle using her methods. As far as she was concerned, that outcome would still have been a victory for her." And my heart aches even more, adding additional power to the useless shield I have around the camp. And I am glad that I have already healed the cracks nearest my mother's skin, so I am not running the risk of killing her if I experience pain when I am unable to look directly at the Tenebrarum. It makes it easier that I do not have to stare at her every night now.

Abruptly, Delora chuckles. "She knew that the two of you were in love…but never stopped to consider what would happen if Waltz had gotten you pregnant."

I laugh softly myself, my hand going to my belly where my son is currently resting. For some reason, I am sure that he will wake and start exercising his developing muscles as soon as I try to go to sleep for the night. He likes to do that for some reason…though in all fairness, I am certain he is getting a bumpy ride in that wagon when _he_ is trying to sleep. "No plan is ever perfect. There is always the Law of Unintended Consequences to consider. I am just happy that it rebounded on her instead of me."

….


	63. Shadows of Thought

**Chapter 63. Shadows of Thought**

"You did not kill her father, Fritz," I tell my knight one night after we stop, putting up a small sound ward just in case Nieva's ears are sharp as I sit down to join him. Fritz had been sitting on a large rock alone, watching the child as she played after he had completed his camp chores late one evening. Delora is only calling the stop when it is almost too dark to see without using magical light…and then we use that magical light to set up camp. The horses seem to accept glowing bulbs of light as if they are just some strange lanterns, and pay them no mind. I tell Delora if I sense humans about, and she turns the lanterns out when we are not alone on the road.

Nieva is playing with a doll my husband made for her near the edge of camp right now, near one of the lights, going a little farther from Delora than she normally does. The child had been dissolving into tears at random times for the first week, clinging to Delora as if afraid that her new mother might disappear as well if she did not hang on to her. After that, Nieva seemed convinced that Delora was real and would remain with her, and the child had started venturing a little further from Delora's skirts.

Nieva had been welcomed to the rest of the group with smiles, games, and stories. She seemed astounded to be among people that liked her, as she had been marginalized by the townsfolk where she had grown up and had only been treated kindly by her own family. Delora had found out relatively quickly that Nieva had overheard herself being referred to as the 'witch child' in town, and had explained that she would not be able to use magic until she was eighteen. The child then asked if she could be a good witch like her then, and Delora had practically melted.

My husband had made Nieva a doll out of what he could find around the wagon, carving wooden pieces for the face and limbs from smooth hardwood. It is not nearly as fine as the puppets he makes when he has the proper supplies, but the child had given him the first smile we had seen since her grandfather's death two weeks before, and promptly dubbed the doll 'Anna.' Now, the doll goes everywhere with her.

The presence of a child had lightened the mood for everyone, but she seemed to be a balm for Parfait in particular. I remember watching my gentle friend with Nieva in a field beside camp one morning at dawn, and Parfait had made flowers bloom to make the girl a wreath of flowers for her hair. I cannot remember the last time I saw Parfait that relaxed, as if nothing but that moment mattered, as they spun around both wearing flowers in their hair. And I could feel the soft fairy magic much better that day, as Parfait sat near her own Crystallum.

The only person not relaxed in Nieva's presence was Fritz. He had been rather uncomfortable with her, and while he did not avoid the child, he did not seek opportunity to spend time with her like the rest of us. And I think I know why.

"She never had a father," I tell him. "There was a detestable criminal that had forced her mother, and never provided anything for her. Frankly, I was a bit surprised that he even truthfully told me where she was once I told him about her. He might have done so only to ensure her grandfather's death."

Fritz draws a deep breath. "In my head, I know that. I also know in my head that as a warrior, I will kill for justice and in defense of Angielle, but some foes will have families. I know that the child cannot mourn him because she never knew him…and in her case that is a good thing. I know in my head that some parents are so awful to their children that they have no right to them. I know that even if he _had_ found out about her and decided to make some provision for her, her mother would have tried everything in her power to hide her from him, for fear that he would try to make Nieva into what _he_ was."

My own eyes drift back to the wagon, where my mother sleeps. "I know that head knowledge does not necessarily mitigate wounds of the heart," I say softly, and then I shake my head. "Delora will explain to Nieva what happened when she is older. She will ensure that she understands. I doubt that she would hate you for it, even if she knew. Myth needed to die."

"Just like my father, just like your mother," Fritz says with a grimace. "Nothing else but death is safe. There are no jails that will hold a witch."

"Are you wishing your father had been imprisoned instead of hung?" I ask. "Not that imprisonment would have normally been an option for someone found guilty of high treason."

Fritz sighs. "A knight gives oaths to Angielle, and its monarch. To break them through treason earns a death sentence, and he knew that. You told me what he did in the last cycle, and…I cannot forgive it. I might be able to forgive him for having Myth curse me, perhaps even for killing me like he does sometimes. In those instances, he only hurt me. But for dividing the Order of Caldira against itself, attempting to corrupt you by trying to murder your husband and child, and kidnapping your stepmother and sister while attempting to start a civil war…. I cannot forgive that. Even though that did not happen this time, the knowledge that he was capable of doing so is bad enough."

I nod. "If he had been given a choice, I think he would have taken death to life entombed in a prison. He was a man of action, if not _wise_ action. He might have gone mad in confinement. Myth did, in the last cycle when I had turned him into stone before finally allowing his life to be taken. I do not know if he tried to break his curse by repenting or not, but if he was incapable of it under those circumstances I do not believe anything else could have convinced him to repent either."

"Being unable to move or interact with anyone might turn anyone mad eventually," Fritz says uneasily, "never mind someone already a bit cracked. But you did give him opportunity to free himself. It is not your fault if he did not take it…and it proved to you that he would never be worthy of freedom."

"Which is why he had to die, Fritz," I tell him. "It was the only way to protect people from him…including Nieva…and as a knight, you are sworn to protect. Your actions keep others safe."

"And that is what I want…for you most of all," my knight answers.

I pause for a moment, thinking. Now might be as good of a time as any. "And do you believe me safe?"

Fritz startles. "We are on the road, and you plan to go to talk to the gods themselves. You have to fix the Tenebrarum without becoming corrupted, and make yourself suffer every step of the way. If you make a mistake, your mother could get loose. No part of this situation is safe," he answers.

"I…suppose I did not exactly make my meaning clear," I admit. "Do you believe that I am safe with my husband? That my heart is safe with him?"

My knight nods slowly. "He…is a good man. He risked everything for you, and saved Angielle in the process. I have never seen him treat you with anything but kindness and devotion. I honestly think he would do anything for you. Why do you ask?"

"There is something you wanted me to tell you about the last cycle, once you were certain that I was safe with Waltz," I tell Fritz. "I wanted to wait for the shock of that first day to wear off. I did not think you capable of thinking some things through until then."

"It was quite a shock," Fritz admits. "I had no idea that my father…."

"It was not just your father," I tell him. "You woke up one day, went about business as usual, and the unthinkable happened. That your father was a traitor or that I was stuck in a time loop was only half of it. You discovered me married to another man, and heavy with his child. You admired me, though you did not think you had much hope of me returning your affections, and that day you discovered me suddenly, irreversibly lost to you."

Fritz blushes and looks at the ground. "I…did not know that you knew."

"As many times as I have lived the same months over and over, I did find out," I tell him. "Even as Varg, you still did what you could to protect my life. Even with the worst part of you expressed and magnified, you still fought for me. Sometimes, you broke through Varg during essential moments to do something important to help me, like give me important information, or when you helped my brother and sister escape the dungeon."

Fritz nods slowly. "I remember you saying that I killed Myth two cycles ago, after breaking my curse. You had promised to wed your 'mother's apprentice' and my actions had probably saved Waltz, and kept you from having to marry Myth."

"And I will be forever grateful for that," I tell him. "And during the last cycle, you convinced Veles to come and meet me, and not to dismiss my request for him to help me get into the holy city. I…do not think that anyone else could have done so. Fritz…I owe you more than I could ever pay, and you will always have a special place in my heart. You still do whatever it takes for me, even knowing that I am in love with another man."

"I…can't see myself doing anything else, Princess," he says slowly. "And I really don't know what to say to that." He draws a ragged breath. "You are still in pain, hurting perhaps worse than I remember you ever being hurt. You cannot hide that from me."

I nod. "Fixing the Tenebrarum requires that it feeds off of me. I have to continuously dredge up experiences that it can use to heal itself. And…a lot of terrible things have happened these past years."

"And Waltz dulls the pain, so you are able to bear it?" he asks, and I nod. "Then…then you have the man that you need most." He is silent for a few moments before asking, "So, what about the last cycle did I want you to tell me?"

"That Emelaigne is smitten with you," I tell him, and Fritz blinks, surprised. "She has never shown interest in anyone else during these cycles. But during this last cycle, when she matured more than usual, she showed it the most."

"How so?" my knight asks, curious.

"It was when your father had captured her and her mother," I begin. "She tried, but failed, to escape twice and your father put her under heavy guard. He had given the excuse that he was 'saving' her and her mother from me, but that Emelaigne just did not want to face what I 'really was.' She then destroyed his arguments, and pushed every single weak point your father had to try to prove to the men around them that she was a hostage, a prisoner, and that they were all committing treason against the Crown and Angielle. He struck her to shut her up, and she thanked him for proving her point. A prisoner might be struck at any time…but never someone considered the 'rightful queen.' Therefore…no one had any excuse to believe anything but that your father had planned to set himself up to rule Angielle.

"And if affected his men…to at least some extent," I continue. "Some were already on edge about having to steal to feed themselves and obtain fodder for their horses, or that they had been ordered to kill the messenger with the parley flag. It forced your father to acknowledge that he considered my father a weak ruler, and that he thought that Angielle would be better off without its current king. He told his men that it was already too late, that they had already stained themselves with the same treason when they put on red, that they all now lived or died with him. But Sir Willard had instructed a baker to sell to them, but had him place the notices offering pardon and further reward in exchange for the safe return of Ophelia or Emelaigne, hidden in loaves of bread. Soon, the whole camp knew of the offer.

"He was not pleased when he found out," I tell Fritz. "He knew that he needed a victory immediately, a starting point, to launch a military campaign. I am not sure how he thought that victory could still be possible. By that point, the only thing he could do was delay the end, or give in and accept banishment instead of death in exchange for his hostages. But he decided to take Fort Summerfell rather than admit defeat.

"He sent Ophelia to the fort with an 'escort' of his men, to convince the commander there to let them in willingly, and had told Ophelia that if she failed that he would kill Emelaigne. Emelaigne had told her mother to not let him use her as a tool against Angielle, and not to worry about her because she would be brave whatever happened. 'Whatever' took form of a group of knights that had decided to abandon your father, and return Emelaigne. They knew that if they tarried, my sister would be killed, and then they would lose any chance for leniency they might have had. She went with them, and they were able to sneak her out of the camp, but then the rest of your father's men noticed and attacked them while they were escaping. She took an arrow, and your friend Rom picked her up as they ran for the safety of Sir Willard's men who were nearby.

"She lost a lot of blood, and became delirious," I continue. "Emelaigne thought that you were the one carrying her, and Rom said that he was you to calm her. Her expression relaxed, and she told him that she loved you, but was always too shy to say so before but she had decided to be brave and she wanted you to know before she died. Your friend…touched by this…continued to pretend that he was you and said that he loved her too. She…also wanted him to tell me that she had been a real princess, just like I told her she was. He said that he would make sure I knew. She said that she wished the two of you had had more time, but at least she was able to talk to you one last time. She died with a peaceful smile on her face."

I find that I have to dab at my eyes with a handkerchief at that, once again seeing the mental picture of how my sister had died in the last cycle, and I see Fritz blinking away a few tears. "I…never knew that she cared for me so," Fritz says softly, "and I never thought that she might have something approaching your own strength."

"Her strength is less obvious than mine, but that does not mean that it is not there," I tell him. "She covers pain with a smile, so not as many people notice it. That takes a kind of strength. She…just has a bit of growing up to do. I think that the two of you might be good for each other. She is yours if you decide that you want her."

Fritz frowns at the ground. "It…is something to consider. But we have no idea what will happen by the time we get back to Angielle. She might change her mind, or your father could give her to another man by that time."

"I told Father that Emelaigne was interested in you," I say, "and the two of them discussed it. I told her not to speak of it to you before we left, because you were still in shock concerning everything that had happened. She accepted that explanation, and I told her that I would tell you of her affections when it seemed appropriate while we were away. She decided to wait for you and your answer until our return to Angielle, and Father promised to keep her in short skirts until we return. Like I said, if you want my sister, she is yours for the taking."

"I…will think on it, Princess," my knight tells me.

I smile at him. "You know Fritz, if you want to call me 'Lucette' you may. If you end up as my brother, you will have to."

…

With Fritz being seen to, finally told of my sister's affections, I begin to find very little purpose in my days. I tire more easily, and go back inside the wagon several times a day while we travel for naps. Chevalier says that it is not uncommon for a woman to be tired, at my stage of pregnancy, but I can tell that Parfait and my husband worry anyway.

The days seem monotonous, one running into another. I wake, eat, ride, nap, eat, ride, nap, eat, and then suffer while repairing the Tenebrarum before I go to sleep again. When I mention how things never seem to change, my friends switch out from the wagon seat beside me more often, and I manage to find the energy for conversation. The constant change means a constant change of topics which keeps my mind working well, but I find that smiling is becoming a harder task and laughter rarer yet. Right now, my husband and Nieva are the only ones that can consistently get me to smile…and that appears to worry Parfait and Waltz even more. While waking from a nap once, I remember overhearing Parfait telling the others that it is important to keep my mind working even if I am not smiling.

It occurs to me to wonder why.

"What was it like, to cycle again and again seeing the same things, the same people all the time?" Klaude asks me one day, up with me at the front of the wagon as I face yet another day.

"It is awful," I tell him. "Nothing you do makes any difference, as you begin a new cycle. Any relationships you form evaporate. Your personal growth is almost immaterial to those around you as everyone expects you to be exactly who you were." I pause for a moment. "I have to deal with what my mother was, fresh every time. Lately especially, I keep learning more about what she has done, how she thought, why she fell, the injuries she inflicted on those around her. Last time, I learned that she is responsible for this cycling…that this is all her fault."

Klaude grimaces. "It's as if she put you under a curse herself, with the conditions you have to meet being that you must embrace the corruption she did, or suffer as much pain as she did and still resist it. I've seen a lot of curses, living at the Marchen, and the worst one will ever do is kill someone…but Princess, yours take the cake. Why did she do it anyway?"

"I…" I stop and think. "She thought my remaining uncorrupted and fulfilling the part of bringing her to judgement was impossible. She knew that one of my options was to embrace corruption, and kill her. As unforgiving as she raised me to be, I doubt she would have found it likely that I would become corrupted and let her loose once I discovered that she was responsible for what had happened to me if I was not corrupted immediately." I close my eyes tightly. At first, when I found out that she had been responsible, I had thought that she was just trying to save herself. I could accept that…it is only natural to try to save oneself. A sense of self- perseverance is innate in everyone. But the more that I thought about it, the more I realized that that was not what she was truly after. "She was not even trying to save her own skin, not really. What the contract granted her was temporary sanctuary, and the 'right to attempt to justify herself' using me as comparison."

And I hated that conclusion. It is as natural to try to say that something was not one's fault as it is to try to save one's own life, but the consequences and thus the scale of the two are different. You fail to save yourself, you die; you fail to justify yourself, you take whatever penalty you deserve for your actions. Was my mother just trying to get out of the penalties for her crimes? Was she only trying to escape justice? Is _that_ the reason she found it necessary to make me suffer so?

"Can that even be done?" Klaude asks. "I mean, if people could get away from their responsibilities or the consequences of their actions by proving that they are no worse than someone else, there would be anarchy. Everyone but the very worst person alive would be safe from consequences."

"It said 'attempt,' not that it was possible for her to justify herself," I whisper, finally able to verbalize the absolute worst thing my mother had ever done to me. "She…it was impossible for her to justify herself, whether I succeeded or failed in holding off corruption. The only thing she could do was prove a point; the only thing she _was_ doing was attempting to prove a point. She decided to make me suffer not to save herself, not because she though the witches would be better off if I were corrupted, or even to escape the consequences of her actions…but to assuage her own pride!"

And it feels like a knife has been drawn through my heart as I realize this. I know I am right. My mother cursed me before Delora even laid eyes on me…and as opposed to an instructive curse, the one I was under was only meant to feed her own ego and force me to see the same destruction earned by corruption. She had been trying to prove that a god was 'wrong,' at the price of the annihilation of the good woman I could have become had she been unsuccessful in corrupting me…she was trying to pull me down to her level rather than allowing me to rise above her and become what she should have been.

This makes even the curse she laid on the woodsman's family pale in comparison; she only killed them. Corruption is worse than death, because it causes yet more death. She did not make Nieva's family kill anyone, and a corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer leaves a swathe of destruction in her wake.

I have known for some time that my mother never really loved me, that in her corrupted nature she was incapable of real love, but now I realize that she never cared for me at all…not even a little bit. If she had, she would not have used me this way.

I was just a doll she played with sometimes, if that. I was a tool. I had more affection for my dolls as a child than she ever had for me. I had treated the objects made of fine china, paint, silks, and stuffing with more tender care than my mother had ever treated her living, breathing daughter. And all I had ever wanted from her was her love and approval, and she had taken the affection I had for her in my innocence, and given me only the most injurious betrayal she could have in exchange.

Klaude jumps back from me, and I realize that lightning is dancing up and down my arms. "Sorry," I murmur, wondering how long it has been since I have lost this much control to not notice the magic there without an outlet. I quickly put up a useless, harmless spell.

Klaude smiles shakily at me. "I'll…I'll just go get your husband."

The two men switch seats, exchanging the horse for the seat on the wagon next to me, and Waltz sits with me the rest of the day. "If it's hurting too much, we can go to the back of the wagon for a while, and someone else can drive," he offers after a minute, gently tucking a stay strand of hair behind my ear.

"I…do not feel like it would help today," I tell my husband, even though it has helped previously, thinking that I may have found an injury that even he cannot bind. For some reason, I do not feel like I even have the energy to respond to his touch today, which is why I do not think it would help. I feel too heavy to move much at all…and I am so tired. Even if he were able to distract me for a time, the truth would not disappear. I know that even when pleasant sensations subside, the pain will still be there…waiting for me. It always is. It just hides in the corner, like a monster lurking in the shadows, waiting until I acknowledge it again. It never goes away.

He sighs. "We can always just cuddle if you would rather rest. I think you look as tired as I have ever seen you. Are you just exhausted again, or…?"

I do not answer him. I do not know how to describe how I feel.

"Does this have something to do with your mother?" he asks me. "Karma said you had been talking about her just now."

"Karma had asked why she made the deal that allowed her to hide within the Tenebrarum. I don't think that she was even just trying to save her own skin. I had always supposed that that was what she had been trying to do, and I could have lived with that," I blurt out. "Maybe she just did what she did merely to prove a point."

My husband is quiet for a moment before answering. "It's possible, just as possible as she was trying to save herself. It's one of the things corruption does to people; it taints your reason, your emotion, it twists everything. It makes the most horrific actions seem reasonable."

"And she embraced it deliberately," I say. "Her sense of duty became a desire to rule, protectiveness became suspicion, love became simple possession. She had to have known that when she did bear her heir, she would be incapable of love."

"I…think that I may have known your mother as well as anyone," Waltz admits, "and trying to figure out how she thought or what she would believe reasonable…. The woman's mind was full of pitfalls and traps at every corner. Mistakes could be deadly. The only way to survive near her was to always follow her instructions perfectly."

"So…naturally you betrayed her to the only enemy she had that was capable of fighting her," I answer. "And even that was not without its own risk. Parfait…had a record of evading confrontation."

"And she was also the only one capable of fighting the Tenebrarum Bearer," my husband says, nodding. "Considering her history, I knew that there was a chance that she would run again, but there was no other choice…and some things are more important than survival. You were, and are, more important than survival to me."

"To her," I say softly, "her pride was even more important than survival…or _my_ survival anyway. Both her pride and survival were more important to her than I ever was."

My husband looks at me sadly. "She never realized how incomparable you really are, never knew your true worth like I do. You know that I love you, Lucette, and I will never abandon or betray you like she did. Nothing will ever change that. And we are _so close_ to it all being finally over; don't give up now. If you wish anything of me, you need only ask." Waltz looks at me for a long moment, but I continue to stare at nothing. "I've never seen you quite like this. Lucette, please tell me what I can do for you."

"You do so much for me," I say after a long minute. "But I have no idea what would help right now."

"Just…don't go out, little star," he whispers.

"I'm trying not to," I reply. "This…just hurts worse than what I normally deal with. With every cycle but the first, I knew that even the deaths of those that I loved might only be temporary, so I did not feel them as keenly as I might have otherwise. But this…is ongoing, a common thread throughout the entire time I have been cycling. When I was very young, before you, she was the only person that even pretended to love me…she made me feel safe. And she was only ever the greatest enemy I could ever have. It makes Alcaster's and Myth's betrayal of my father's trust seem like such a mild thing; they might have pretended to respect him, pretended loyalty…but they shared no blood and pretended no love."

"You were too young to do anything but trust her, and she modified your memories to control you. Your mistake in trusting her was not your fault. And you know that accepting corruption would twist you as much as it did her," my husband reminds me. "Your light would go black, becoming a darkness that swallowed even the light…and I can think of no greater tragedy. Just…just try to hold on, see this to the end. You have worked so hard, to come this far. It is almost over."

"Will it be over, truly?" I muse. If I am unsuccessful in filling up the measurement of pain, there is the chance that I will have to cycle all over again. I check the measure every several days, and there is still more to go. But the gods promised that my son would still live so long as I got to through gates before his birth…. But even then, it will not be over. "The pain will not end, even if we are successful." I trail off for a moment as the baby begins to wiggle again, inside of me, and I rest my hand where I feel him moving. "We will both have to pretend that he was never born, hide him, curse our own baby until we have another. Is that any better than some of the things my mother did to me?"

"Yes, it is Lucette," my husband tells me. "We will be doing it for the baby's good…and the good of others as well."

Others. My sister, my knight. I hope that they value what Waltz and I plan to do for them, considering the cost of it. "My mother might have used the same excuse, at one point," I say. "She might have made the excuse that if she made sure that I was tough, corrupted, that others would not try to hurt me, or that they might not be able to…that it was for _my_ good. And I know that you hate the idea of cursing our son. You would probably rather cut off your own arm than do this."

Pain flashes across my husband's face, and I know that I am right. Waltz has fought for this baby almost as much as I have, carefully tending me the entire way through to ensure our son's survival. He simply wants to be able to enjoy the son we have both paid such a high price for already, and not lock him away as if he does not exist even if that state will only be temporary.

Chevalier says that it is only absolutely necessary that I wait a few months before becoming pregnant again. So, once I curse my newborn son, I might have to wait nearly a year before his father and I can truly experience him if we have to go back to Angielle immediately. If Angielle can wait and I am not needed immediately, we will only have to stay away and keep our son in stasis for six months instead.

And six months is still a long time to see my son motionless, cursed.

"If there was another way…" my husband trails off, and then he lets out a deep, defeated sigh. "I don't know another way. I wish that I did. I can only comfort myself with the thought that it is much preferable to his death."

 _Or mine._ I sigh, knowing what I am still withholding from my husband. My blood will be upon holy ground, like the fortune-telling witch said two cycles ago, back when Waltz and I were courting. The amount of blood had not been specified, so I have no idea if the injury I will suffer will be survivable or not, but how would my husband react if he knew that we might be hastening towards my own end? But I have to go. My son will only live if I continue on. Waltz always wants me to be honest with him, but would knowing the entire truth of the situation destroy him?

I cannot destroy him. He means more to me than anything or anyone in this world, so I will continue to carry this particular burden alone. And if it causes me pain to do so…at least it is one more thing I can use to fix my Crystallum and fill the measure on the knife.

I ride on my seat in the wagon the rest of the day in silence, my hand resting on my swollen belly as my baby moves vigorously inside of me, or sometimes he relaxes as he sleeps. I am making this journey, taking the risks that I am, for this child as much as I am for myself. I only want to give my son everything I can, make it a better world so the burdens I will one day give him will be lesser than the ones I bear now. I think I remember Ophelia saying that my father worked hard to make it a better place for his child. For 'his children' is what she had corrected it to, since she had not remembered me at the time, but I had known what my father had originally said. My father had worked hard to try to make Angielle a better place for _me_. But my mother…. I would never deliberately inflict on my son what my mother did on me, even to save myself, never mind doing so simply to prove a point!

And I realize that I have never even seen his face, and yet I feel this way about my son. I had once wriggled in my mother's belly, helpless before her, and I do not know if she felt anything at all for me then. I remember that 'Lucette' was the name that my father chose for me, and at the time he could do nothing without her approval. Had she allowed him to name me as a token, as a scrap fallen from her table that she allowed him to have, or did she even care what my name was? After my birth, my mother had years to get to know me, grow to love me, and she struck a bargain with a god to make me suffer…to try to corrupt me. Perhaps she had thought that she had done enough work on me in preparation that I would be corrupted easily…but perhaps not. Did she know how much I would resist the corruption that took her, how much I would suffer for it? Even the time when she made me into a husk, it was still better than this. At least as a husk, I would have been incapable of directly harming those I once loved when becoming incapable of love at all. If I _had_ become corrupted, who knows what I would have done?

I might have replicated her crimes. I would have become the person I was pretending to be when I played Myth and Alcaster against each other two cycles ago. I would have destroyed everyone I had ever come to love…maybe even Waltz. I would have either killed him, or turned him to corruption as well, succeeding where my mother had failed. Power had not tempted him, he rose above revenge, my husband hardly has an angry bone in his body, he will suffer most types of pain with a patience that astounds me, but despair at my own corruption….

Despair might have done it, especially if he thought that surrender to it would allow him to remain at my side. Myth was right about that, Mother was right about that.

I would have become even worse than my mother, corrupting someone as perfect and wonderful as Waltz. As evil as my mother had ever been, I would have become even worse. And that was what she wanted for me. Not that I would have a pleasant life, not that I would love and be loved, not that I would right wrongs or rule Angielle fairly, not that I would find joy in a family of my own with the man I had chosen to love…but that I would surpass even her in her evil tyranny.

This realization wounds me more than anything else she has ever done to me, and when we stop that night, I use this pain and heal up the strongest, deepest cracks within the Tenebrarum. With that done, I try to continue on the few cracks left, but my husband pulls me away.

"Lucette, you need to stop now," Waltz tells me, plainly worried about something. "It's too much. You…you need to sleep now."

Sleep.

Maybe sleep would help numb me, or at least help me escape this pain for a time. I do not know how I can keep bearing it. I do not want to feel anything right now, and alcohol is forbidden due to our baby, but maybe sleep….

The next morning, I am difficult to rouse from my blankets. I don't feel like getting up, like doing anything. It still hurts too much for me to function, and I do not bother to try to control the continuous static that escapes from my arms. But I eventually allow Waltz to carry me to my seat in the wagon, and I sit there silently as it lurches forward.

…..


	64. Conversations with Darkness

**Chapter 64. Conversations with Darkness**

It would be so easy, to just give up. And that miasma is back, just hanging within my peripheral vision. It occurs to me to wonder why I do not think it odd that such a thing is talking to me.

 _If you did give up, it would stop…it would all stop. Time would continue…your torment would end. You would not have to worry about filling up some stupid line on a knife. Why is it so important anyway?_

I eat when someone puts food in my hand or in front of my mouth, drink when someone places a cup to my lips, sleep when my husband pulls me down into blankets beside him, but…. Does it even really matter anymore?

Even in my state, I can tell that the others seem worried about me. Those closest to me sit beside me in the wagon seat, talking to me for hours. Delora, Parfait, my husband…. I try and remember what they were saying…but I catalogue nothing. But then I recall that it doesn't matter what they were saying, and that is why I was not listening. I am unable to ignore that they also sound like they are in pain. Maybe I am the one causing it.

This world holds nothing but pain for me. I cause pain to others, and others cause me pain. That is all there is.

 _You were born to be a tool to your mother, and she carefully shaped you into what she wanted you to be…throwing you away when you ceased to be useful to her. She never loved you. She only wanted to use you. Those nights when she cuddled you to sleep when you were a child…that affection was nothing but a lie. What you thought was love was merely a mask she wore._

I acknowledge that this is truth. Given what she has done, how could I think anything else? I noticed that I sleep in a bedroll among the others instead of in the wagon, now. I am still kept warm, as my husband wraps himself around me as I sleep. I do not mind that I am no longer sleeping in such close proximity to my mother. I have no reason to want to be near her. She was nothing but a liar, pretending love when she had forgotten what it really was.

 _Your father does little more than fail you, and he admits it. He saw to your physical needs…but when you needed him the most…he was not there. He left you alone to search for the woman he loved, for the family he wanted instead of you. As you go through again and again, he still does almost nothing for you while you have risked everything for him…and he is passive. If he really loves you as much as he says, he would have fought harder for you. He always knew that you had the capability to become exactly like your mother, and even knowing that, he did not try hard enough to get through to you._

 _He never wanted you; he gave up on you so easily…and love does not give up._

I cannot argue that he had not wanted me…. My birth had not been my father's choice, and he had stopped fighting for me long before Delora cursed me that first time. After I was cursed, he had the excuse that magic had made him forget me…but in between my mother's defeat and my curse there had been four years in which he had no such pretext for his behavior. How does anyone fail in a single task for four years unless they do not really care to accomplish it? He had not offered me so much as a hug in the months after my mother's 'death,' and I usually have to risk everything for him before he will so much as say that he loves me. Sometimes this is not true…but only sometimes.

What kind of love only works 'sometimes?'

Days and nights go by, neither mattering to me, but we continue to travel. I do notice that the terrain has changed, and we appear to be nearing mountains. But, that doesn't matter to me. The cloud of darkness still hangs seductively within my reach. And it continues to whisper to me.

 _You do not return your knight's love, but that does not stop him from loving you…and he always does regardless of whether or not he has a basis for hope that you might someday return his love. You only cause him pain, as his loyalty to you earns him nothing more than a good view of your romance with another man that he cannot hope to compete with. As a knight, he values fighting ability…and you chose a man that had nearly singlehandedly saved Angielle whereas the only accomplishment Fritz could claim at the time was getting rid of a snake. Once Fritz saw you smiling at another man, he knew that his own chance to win you no longer existed. The only thing you offer him is your naïve stepsister, as if she is a consolation prize. And he will take her…any man in his right mind would not spurn an offer of marriage to a princess…but will he still be thinking of_ you _when he finally makes love to_ her _?_

 _He would be happier had he never met you, had he never loved you. You only cause him pain, just as his father caused him. Just like his father, you reward your knight's loyalty and love with betrayal._

Fritz…my poor Fritz. It would have been better had he never met me. He deserves so much better. I am not sure why he ever thought I was worth loving in the first place. I certainly cannot think of a reason as to how or why he could love me.

 _Your stepbrother and stepsister preferred their uncomplicated lives. Rod regrets making himself a prince, not even getting his beloved that he literally risked his life for twice! He has no control in his life, and his action in accepting a curse to become a prince only made it worse. He is not close enough to the throne to have any power, but still close enough to suffer its restrictions…and that is where he will remain for the rest of his life. He trapped himself in a gilded cage, taking his sister with him._

 _Emelaigne hides her tears in a mask of smiles, desperately trying to fit in where she believes that she has no place. And she is not wrong…noble society looks down on her whenever she is not standing in your shadow. She has a choice of accepting being ever outshone by you, or self-imposed isolation._

 _Rod and Emelaigne never wanted anything to do with you, and would be living out their own lives very happily without you but for Rod's immaturity._

They would have been happier outside the palace, but Rod did something foolish and his sister suffers for his mistake. Last time…the consequences killed her. Rod had been right when he had said that Alcaster would never have bothered with a baker's daughter, but the traitor _had_ bothered with a princess and it had been her destruction. Her face had been so cold, her cheeks so pale, as she lifelessly waited for her coffin to be completed.

Her smile had perished with her; death had taken her mask.

 _Your stepmother had loved your father once, and happily took him back when circumstances changed and she was able to do so. But then…any other woman would have done the same thing. Your father offered her a life of wealth and privilege…and she knew that she would never suffer need for either herself or her children ever again. Perhaps she had some genuine feelings for your father…but then again she_ had _married another man quite quickly when your mother claimed your father for her own._

I recall from Rod's story that my father had told Ophelia to marry lest my mother grow possessive; that it would be the safest course of action. But how does one fall in and out of love so quickly?

No. I find that I cannot fault Ophelia…not when I have done similar things myself. If I find fault with her for loving both her first and second husbands, then what am I? After all, she only loved two men…and not five. Or perhaps she deserves a little blame, and I deserve much more. I had switched from man to man hoping that I could do something that might finally end these cycles if there was some result the next man might grant me. How much of my own feelings had been genuine, and how much of them desperation as I tried to use the men that had fallen in love with me? Had it even been love, on my part anyway, if I had been trying to use them?

But then there had been Waltz, and I had chosen him during the cycle that I had decided to seek balance between the Crystallum instead of the 'perfect fairytale ending.' Had I chosen him because I had thought him able to help me with this task best, or because I had the most genuine affection for him out of all of my lovers? What matter of a creature am I? Do I even know, myself?

I do not walk unless someone is leading me by the hand, now. Chevalier examines me every night when we stop, but he gives me nothing. I can make out enough to tell that he is worried that anything that might help me could harm the baby.

They think that the baby may be the only reason that I have not snapped yet. I am not sure that they are wrong in that…I know that if I give in, I might do to my child what my mother did to me. I cannot do that, even if I feel like I am hanging on with my fingernails. I love my son, and want to continue to love him as my mother never loved me.

I must protect him…perhaps even from myself. I know that if I fall, if I allow the miasma to have me, I will then be unable to love my baby. But the whispers continue. I do not have the strength to tell them to go away.

 _Jurien and Garlan were treated shamefully by your father when they were only trying to tell him the truth, and they should have been honored for doing so. Garlan is right when he says that he doesn't deserve her, and you have to push him to find the courage to confess because he lacks the nerve to do it on his own. But you do, and saddle her with a man that is unworthy of her. They might appear happy together right now…but as time passes, she will realize just how unworthy of her he is…and their relationship will fall apart. It would have been better had they only remained friends, and you ruined that possibility for them. Jurien will face anything with a courageous heart, but Garlan lacks the courage to deserve her._

He tried to confess on his own once, but died in a pool of his own blood first. There was nothing beautiful in that. Garlan had not found his courage on his own until it was too late. I do not know why I bother to try to get them together when he does not deserve her.

 _Klaude deserved his curse. He was selfish, caused so many girls grief in feeding his own ego. He loved the thrill of the chase, and had no consideration for his lovers once he had caught them. He only wanted to use you…not so differently from how he used them. When he meets you, he is only interested in you getting him out of the consequences of his actions. He says that he has learned his lesion after experiencing the heartbreak of lost love himself, but what is_ one _occurrence compared to how many other hearts he had broken? He was already a ravenous beast before that witch cursed him; she just made his true nature more obvious. He continuously devoured the hearts of young women that only wanted to be loved, and despite his good looks and royal trappings he was probably unworthy of each and every one of them._

Klaude never paid enough, and expected me to erase his debt. That witch had actually done every attractive woman in his line of sight a favor, by cursing him. She had saved so many other hearts from being broken. I am not sure how anyone could compare his one broken heart to all the other hearts he broke. And I realize that I have no idea how many hearts he has broken. Twenty? Fifty? How can only one broken heart stack against all of that? It would be like claiming a single copper piece was sufficient monetary payment for a horse. Klaude is a fool if he thinks that he paid enough.

 _Chevalier is a fool, not taking any care with his own heart or resources. He craves being seen as generous by others so much that he ignores his most important responsibilities to fulfill this yearning. And not everyone respects him for that; the nobleman he paid the Witch Doctor to cure for him despised his gift of health so much he slept with Chevalier's fiancée when she came seeking payment for services rendered. She despised her fiancée so much, she went to bed with another man willingly. Once that respect was proven lost, their relationship was over. In trying to prove himself before others, he forsook the woman he loved._

 _Why have you never thought that he might do the same to you?_

 _You cannot count on such a man for anything important; you have to lead him by the hand as if he is a child, and slap him occasionally. He's lucky the Witch Doctor only gave him a mild curse. In spite of what she told you, she probably just wanted him to stop bothering her…yet you allow him to flit around in your inner circle._

I should really show better judgement than that. He is irresponsible with everything but the care of his patients, and there is more to life than one's occupation. But he neglects himself, he neglected the woman that loved him. Eventually, that would have caught up with him, and he would not have been able to care for his patients either.

He would have failed everyone, and I have no illusions that eventually he would have neglected me had I been fool enough to remain with him. Fortunately, I retained enough presence of mind to move on from him as soon as I figured out that taking him as a lover would in no way help the cycles stop. He had been the easiest for me to get over. Come to think of it, I had woken in the palace at the start of the next cycle after his 'good' ending quite nearly happy that the cycles had not stopped. And that cycle with Chevalier had been the first time I had seen Waltz as something other than a child, the first time I had seen him without his curse….

It is starting to get colder, and the road narrower. Someone puts an extra cloak around my shoulders, pulls up my hood for me. It is cold during the day, but at night when we are stationary, I sleep in delicious warmth but I no longer keep track as to the source of that warmth. Were there walls once? There are no walls any longer, where I sleep. It does not matter. All I really notice is that someone is wrapped around me, keeping the cold at bay. I think there might be some words too, but I do not listen. Still, I retain the faint recognition that someone is caring for me.

I wonder why they bother.

 _Your mother only gave Delora loss, taking her daughter…leaving her without her only close family. But, you are not Delora's daughter, and you never can be. You know what you had for a mother instead. You can never make up for what your mother did to her, no matter how hard you try…and Delora knows this._

I will ever fail in that. There is no question about it. Nothing can replace a lost child. It is a hole in your heart that you will always carry with you; every hope and dream you had on their behalf swallowed up in a void. There is silence where there had once been love as you lay a cold, small body in the earth. And I know that this is how Delora must feel about losing her daughter; it is how I would feel about losing my son. But….

But I have not lost him yet. He is still inside me, strengthening his muscles as he moves within his confines, as the time for his birth comes ever closer. And I think…. _I'm supposed to be somewhere before that happens, right?_

And the light and dark goes on, one replacing the other in the sky above me. But I stay silent, caring little for the changes that occur without me.

 _Parfait…Fait…watched while your mother turned from a friend as close as a sister, into a deadly enemy…and she did nothing to stop it. Perhaps she could have intervened before it was too late…perhaps so much suffering could have been spared…but it was not. She was naïve to believe the storyteller would do no harm, and he sparked the Witch Hunts and the Great War. She did not foresee it, and your kingdom was very nearly devastated by her cowardice and lack of judgement. She deserves an early grave, just like she believes she does. So many other lives were cut short by her lack of will and action. She was never worthy of the power of a Crystallum. She probably would have cracked even faster than your mother, had their positions been switched._

This is true…Parfait could have stopped this all from ever occurring. If only _she_ had been sent back in time instead of me. I do wonder what would have happened had the humans tried to kill fairies instead of witches…what she would have done to stop it. All of my mother's efforts to stop the Hunts had turned to dust before she finally accepted corruption…would Parfait have done exactly as my mother had? Would she have killed the reigning king for his dereliction of duty, and set herself up in his place?

No…no I do not believe that she would have killed anyone, even if they had deserved it. She would have run instead of fighting…instead of solving the problem. And even more fairies would have died as a result. Perhaps when the light of the fairies had been nearly extinguished, she would have accepted corruption after all of the grief and despair of the deaths had gotten to her. It is not impossible that she could have turned into what my mother had become. But if their places _had_ been switched, would my mother have fought for the fairies to keep them alive and her friend uncorrupted? Would that have resulted in my mother being corrupted anyway?

 _Parfait had you cursed, and then took you in, because she had no other choice. She accepted you, only because her only other option was to kill you. She won't even kill your mother, unless you beg her…the fairy is weak, as well as foolish. You can count on her for nothing._

Had my mother been the stronger of the pair, or not? Mother gave into the darkness that is still waiting beside me, whispering to grasp it, so it is possible that my mother may have been the weakest…but Parfait was still the naïve one. There is no disputing that.

 _Your husband…your mother killed his family, when she took him to serve her. Do you really think you can make it up to him by giving him his own children? Will that replace his parents, the ones that loved him enough to die to try to save him when yours would do nothing of the kind? Your father hardly tried to fight for you at all, and your mother would destroy you herself._

My eyes open, my vision fuzzy because of the tears, as I watch the campfire burn in the night. Inside of me, I can feel my baby wiggle as I try to rest. Has he gotten bigger?

 _Waltz gives you everything, does anything for you…anything at all. You fear losing him, but you know that even if you were to grasp the darkness…he would still stay beside you to try to coax you back into the light. He would not stop trying, would never leave you, until one of you is dead. Or, you might corrupt him as he tries bring you back into the light, and he would become what he fears most. You have no way to pay your debts to him, to compensate him for the kind of pain that would cause him._

 _You have never deserved him. You have never been worthy of his love, of marriage to him, or even the privilege of carrying his child. He is so much better than you._

Tears continue to blur my vision, and I notice something dark between the fire and myself. I blink the tears away to recognize a young child…Nieva. The voices have been silent concerning her, and it occurs to me to wonder why. What is so different about her, that they say nothing about her? So I wipe my eyes to see her more clearly, to watch her.

Nieva is putting sticks on top of the fire, as it is trying to die out, and the fire continues to consume. But the fire is needed, so she feeds it and it burns what she gives to it. In return, she receives light and heat. The fire lights her face as she stares into it, and I cannot help but notice that she is a beautiful child…a beauty born of pain, for pain. Suffering had made her, just as it had made me.

She is me. That is how I was born, how I grew. She might understand.

A question comes to mind, and with a sense of purpose I have not felt for who knows how long, I rise from my blankets beside my sleeping husband to go sit beside the fire. I only barely notice that the air is icy, that the fire warms my front while my back becomes colder. The girl looks up at me, startled, as my mouth opens, but nothing but a croak comes out on my first try.

"Princess Lucette?" she asks quietly, as if she is sure that more than a soft whisper will startle me.

I try again, working moisture into my mouth and throat before I open my mouth again. "How?" I ask her.

"How what, Princess?" she replies still using her soft voice.

"How do you keep going?" I ask matching her whisper, but the child remains silent, so I try to explain better. "Your village neighbors shunned you, your father never bothered to find out if he even had a daughter, you watched your family members all die one by one. Your only chance to survive laid with a stranger, who took you as a proxy for the daughter you can never truly replace. You had to leave the only home you ever knew, traveling with some of the most potentially dangerous mortals in the world, to meet with gods that have the power to kill us all if we displease them. What makes life so worth it, that you deal with all of this? How can you not…just give up?"

The child is silent for a moment, and all I hear are the crackling of the flames on the wood. "I guess…I never really think about it. I just keep walking."

"Sheer stubbornness?" I ask. "I…don't think I have enough of that. I may have used mine up." And it is true that I am exhausted, in more ways than one.

The girl's eyes wander from my face, up to the stars above us. "When I keep walking, I see something pretty…like those stars, or flowers, or the moon. Momma use to say that if you could find beauty, you could find love…and if you could find love, you could find beauty."

"That…sounds very nice," I admit, allowing my gaze to follow hers to the sky above us. The moon is dark tonight, but for some reason its absence appears to make the stars shine all the brighter. And I cannot help but think of how often Waltz has compared me to those bright lights that hang in the sky above us.

"Princess Lucette…can I ask you a question?" the child asks.

"Of course," I answer, my gaze leaving the sky to observe the girl once more.

"Did…did your husband hurt you to give you that baby?" she asks.

I blink. "Why would you ask that, child?"

"Because," Nieva says, "I asked Grandpa once if I had a father like other children, after Momma died. He said that I did…but he had hurt my mother, and that pain had made me, so I should forget about him…that he didn't know if my father was even dead or alive. Did Waltz hurt you to give you the baby, because he wanted one, and is that what is making you so sad? Because, he is so nice I don't think he would hurt you on purpose. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

I have to smile at the child. "No, he didn't hurt me. Love can make a baby too, and does much more often than pain does. When we got married, he gave me his love…and that's what made the baby."

I remember the night as if it had just happened…as if my heart is still hammering from our victory over Alcaster and Myth, as if I still believe that I have finally succeeded in making the cycles stop…as if I lie with my new husband, flesh on flesh, for the very first time. I had never felt more in love than on that night…I had never felt happier…as if everything I had suffered had been worth it, just to experience that night with Waltz. It had been in sheer, unbounding joy that our son had been conceived.

And then I woke up the next morning, thinking I was alone again…not knowing that I had Waltz's baby growing inside of me. Even while he could not be with me when I awoke that first morning, even though he had not intended it…Waltz had made it so I was not alone. His love had never left me, even though I had not realized it at the time. I still had what his love had given me…the proof that he loved me. While I know that some men will take lying with a woman lightly, for Waltz the act is only an expression of sincere, deep love. That was why he waited as long as he did to make love to me the second time; it is something he never shared with anyone but me.

Waltz had never abandoned me, even when he was not there when I awoke that morning to find him gone, even when he had no idea that we were married. When he found out that what he had thought was a dream was actually real, he decided to love me all over again.

"But if he loves you so much, why are you still sad?" Nieva asks.

"Because pain…there is no love without potential for pain," I answer her. "My pain…comes from places other than my husband. He tries to chase it away, but there is only so much he can do."

"He tries to protect you from it, but it gets in anyway," Nieva says, nodding. "Grandpa was like that, too. He tried to pretend that it didn't matter that other children wouldn't play with me when we went into town, that he loved me so much he made up for it. That didn't keep me from wanting to play, though."

For a moment, I am a child staring between the bars of the palace walls, looking longingly at the other children playing 'tag' on the other side. I turn around to see Waltz standing behind me.

" _You want to go out and play, don't you?" he asks me._

" _Yes…that looks fun. Can…can we go out?" I ask my mother's servant._

 _He shakes his head. "No…your mother would not like you to leave the palace." My face falls, and he sighs. "Well…maybe we could play hide-and-seek in here."_

" _Is that a game, like ones the other children out there play?" I ask, curious. "How do you play it?"_

 _He smiles at me. I had not seen the boy that served my mother smile before, but there is something about his expression that makes me feel warm and safe. "I close my eyes, and count, and while I count you hide anywhere in the garden. Then, I try to find you. If I can't find you, you win the game. If I can…you count while I hide, and then you have to find me."_

 _I brighten. "Ok Waltz! Start counting, and I'll go hide right now!"_

That day was when we had become friends. That one simple, kind gesture of playing with a lonely child had changed the course of my life…had changed the course of a nation.

I blink, remembering why I liked the garden…why I still liked to walk there sometimes, even when I had no memory of Waltz. I remembered that I had been happy there, once, if not why I had felt that way. It had so many good hiding places, and I would have to keep a hand over my mouth to hide my giggles while Waltz came to look for me. Looking back, I am now sure that Waltz deliberately did not always find me as quickly as he could have. I remembering him walking past my hiding place saying, 'Now, if I were a little star, where would I hide?'

"Is Waltz the only one that loves you?" Nieva asks.

I pause for a moment, and the voices beside my ear go silent. "Well…there's my father. Our relationship has not always been good, but that is in the past now. He has always been…passive… in both our relationship, and in dealing with other problems as well. But that is how he survived my mother's reign. She likely would have killed him otherwise. Maybe…maybe after so long, he did not know any other way. He still always loved me, even if he made mistakes. Last time, he was willing to sacrifice even the love of his life for me." And for Angielle as well. Keeping Waltz out of danger had been the only sure way to keep both me and Angielle safe. He had wept from it…but he had still done it. He had to have grown both as a father, and as a king to be able to do that.

"So…just your husband and your father?" she asks.

"No…" I answer. "My stepsister does too, but she loves everyone. However, she tried to get to know me, even when I was being…difficult." Last time, she had learned and grown perhaps even more than I had in most cycles. I had never been more proud of her. She had done what was needful, shown all of Alcaster's men what was really happening, and had saved so many of them. Those that the traitor had fooled had fled with her, and it had been no fault of theirs that my sister had not survived her escape.

"Who else?" the girl asks.

"I think…I think my stepbrother cares about me…at least, I know that he does when he gets to know me better. Eventually, he starts treating me like he treats his own sister." I had left my brother on the balcony after learning of our sister's death with him knowing that he had helped me avoid corruption. His actions had made Emelaigne a princess and put her into the danger that had eventually killed her…and his actions had possibly also kept Angielle from being ruled by another corrupt Bearer. I can easily imagine him torn, unsure if he would make the same decision again if he had known the cost and the consequences of it, as he remained on that balcony alone that night. He had lost one sister, and gained another. Emelaigne had been his sun, but I was the one everyone else needed. Had I become corrupted, I would have become the night fallen over the entire kingdom that no sun could penetrate.

"And my stepmother loves me, or at least, she wants to. I know that she has before." I had held her close, stroked her hair as she wept over her daughter. She had resisted sleep that night until I had told her that I loved her. Only then had she allowed her eyes to close, escaping into the temporary oblivion of sleep.

"Who else?"

"Jurien and Garlan like me," I admit. "They know that I value them, and the sacrifices they and other knights make. I impressed them by learning the sword, the discipline it took when they knew I would probably not have to use it much." They spent hours working with me, to make me better with my swordsmanship, even knowing that once I turned eighteen their efforts would become irrelevant as my magic awoke. On the other hand, for all they knew, it might save my life before then. They had wanted me alive and uncorrupted to take the throne and the keeping of the Tenebrarum one day, and as far as they were concerned, any investment they could make towards that was more than worth it.

"And?"

"Klaude…may have been nice to me only because he needed my help at first, but he came to like and respect me as a person as he got to know me." He spent a lot of time training me with a sword too…and for the same reasons as the knights had. I do have to wonder…during the times he fell in love with me, had he planned to abdicate in order to marry me? It would have been the only way he could have kept me. He would have known that the entire time as thorns surrounded his rose tattoo that even if I was able to love him, he would literally have to give up his kingdom for me. The responsibilities that hold me in Angielle are simply stronger than the ones he would have in Brugantia.

"Fritz has always valued my own life above his, and would fight through anything to save me. I…would never have made it this far without him." I would have failed without him. I owe Parfait and Delora as much as I do him, and only Waltz more. He is my ever faithful knight, and proof that it is in no way necessary that one must be exactly as one's parent; it is our choices that define us, that say who we are. His own story, his struggle, is not that dissimilar from mine in some ways…and he is able to rise above his situation and still do the right thing. I can only but admire his strength.

"Chevalier cares for all of his patients, perhaps a bit too much, but I am closer to a friend than a patient to him." He is a doctor dedicated to saving life…and once he took it, to save me. I am glad that he did not have to do it this time, that he did not have to take that burden. It is a responsibility better suited to be borne by a knight than a physician. Doctors enter their profession with the aim to save lives, and knights into theirs knowing that they might take lives or even give up their own in service to their monarch and nation.

"Who are you forgetting?" Nieva asks me.

I blink. "Parfait still wishes my mother had never…fallen into darkness…but she sees me as myself instead of a copy of my mother. Sometimes I think she may be afraid to love me as she loved my mother, who had been like a sister to her, but she takes the risk anyway. She believes in me." If she had not, she would never have had Delora curse me in the first place. My curse could have made things worse instead of better, had I not responded as they had hoped. "Delora is everything I wish my mother _had_ been…and I cannot tell you how fortunate you are to have her as your second mother."

And it occurs to me to wonder what it would have been like to have Delora as queen in Ophelia's place, if Rod had been Delora's son instead of Ophelia's when he decided to make himself a prince. _Well…Delora would have known immediately that he had been cursed, and then either sabotaged Viorica's wedding until I turned eighteen, or else tried to find a pretty girl he would have liked to help him break his curse. She probably would have discovered Myth within weeks, made Father investigate Jurien's and Garlan's claims once she discovered them, and given me a much earlier introduction to Mr. Broom._

I can just see Mr. Broom pulling me down the corridors of the palace until I agreed to be nice to whomever she decided that I had wronged. I am sure that it would have taken me time to appreciate her, but she would have gotten through to me with time. She would have been more persistent about showing me that she loved me than my father had been, and eventually I would have seen it. I would have accepted her love given time, and offered her my own.

"Yes," Nieva says, "she is very good to me. But is that it?"

"I…think so," I say.

"You forgot _me_ ," the girl says, sounding almost sulky.

"Oh…sorry," I tell her, remembering how much I had hated being overlooked when I was a child. "I haven't known you that long, so I have no idea what you think about me."

Her face softens. "You saved me. You didn't have to, and you knew that I couldn't give you any money for it. My family had nothing valuable. There are so many stories about bad witches…but you are one of the good ones." She pauses for a moment. "The others…they whisper, but they were saying that sometimes before a witch goes bad, they start acting like you have been. They don't talk, stop doing anything, and when they wake, sometimes they become bad. That…that isn't happening to you, is it?"

I look over my shoulder, and the dark cloud is no longer there, whispering to me. "I…I think that I won. The darkness tried, but it is gone now," I tell her softly. I don't need the darkness and what it offers; I already have everything I need. Although everyone I care about is as imperfect as I am, there is still love to be found anyway…and that is everything to me. There is still beauty and love even in the midst of imperfection, in the midst of pain. I can keep going, knowing that I am so loved, for the sake of those that love me…for the sake of those I love.

She looks relieved. "Good. Everyone was so worried about you."

I look over to where my husband lies, and he is starting to stir, feeling for me in the blankets. "Thank you, Nieva, but I think it is time we both got back to our blankets."

The child nods, and puts a few more logs on the fire before returning to where Delora is curled up a few paces away. I return to my own blankets as my husband's eyes open to see me kneeling down beside him.

"Lucette…" he whispers, when he notices me meeting his eyes for the first time since I became silent, and I read pain and hope in them once more…the pain and hope that I find in his eyes so often. And I know that it is because he loves me that I read what I do…that if he did not love me, there would be neither pain nor hope. And I know that, like always, I am capable of chasing away the pain and confirming the hope. This time…I merely need to show him that he has not lost me. He knew that I would snap out of this catatonic gloom one day, either victorious or corrupted…either his completely or gone from him.

I smile at him as I crawl next to him, under the blankets, once again sharing warmth with the man I love. "I'm back, Darling. I…my mother may have lost, but I…I won."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and then a gentle smile pulls at his lips as he brings a hand to brush my face. "You…you're back…and you still shine, little star," he whispers.

My smile is broad as I grin at him. "As if I would let the rest of you try to stop this time cycling problem without me."

Even in the dark, I can see his eyes water with tears as his smile fills his face before he kisses me deeply, welcoming me back to him. For a time, he cries quiet tears of joy, of relief while he holds me. I reach up a hand, wiping away some of the tears from his face. "I scared you. I'm so sorry, Waltz."

"You scared us all," he admits. "Klaude has been blaming himself since that day; he can't seem to do enough around camp to try to make up for things now. Parfait, Delora, and I…we knew how much risk you were in, in working with the Tenebrarum as often and as long as you have been, these last two cycles. That you would reach the point where you might turn was inevitable…our only question was what would happen when you reached that juncture."

"What did you think would happen?" I ask quietly.

He smiles at me. "That you would come back to me. That did not stop me from the fear that you would not, though. There were times when…." My husband stops, and sighs. "Actually, I cannot thank Fritz enough. He was always so insistent that you would be back, that you would be back in time, that I could not help but believe it. The waiting is so much easier, the despair further away, when even one person is there to support you."

I smile. "My ever faithful knight." Fritz had known that I needed Waltz taking care of me, so he had taken care of my husband. And then another thought occurs to me. "Is Parfait alright? I mean…her coping skills are not the best." Parfait tends to internalize things, and then lets them steal her every joy. It is a fair guess that she has made no progress in fixing her Crystallum while I was out of sorts.

"Parfait…" he trails off for a moment. "She has been taking this pretty badly. I am sure she will be fine once she realizes that you are back, but…. She never thought your mother would turn, but it happened. She thought you stronger, but since she's seen the results of the 'impossible' happening before…. If you had turned, it would have broken her. I have never personally known a fairy that had become corrupted, but the despair from that may have made her the first."

Even warm, under blankets with my husband, I shiver. With a corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer _and_ Lucis Bearer, all of Angielle would have fallen into darkness, and there would be no semblance of balance left. "My decisions always impact so many more people than myself."

He nods. "That is what power is."

And there is also something else I realize as I rub my hand on my belly. "Waltz…I was not this big before. How…just how long have I been out of it?"

"Weeks," he tells me. "We are nearly there…and Chevalier thinks that the baby is due very soon. We might have less than another week, and two weeks at the very most."

"It's been _weeks_?" I repeat, shocked. _Has it really been so long?_ And I blink, realizing something else. "And you took care of me that entire time?" I say softly. Someone had to make sure that I was fed, dressed, clean, and warm…and I cannot imagine anyone but my husband tending to me so. I can guess that Delora might have helped out whenever Waltz had needed a break. However, Parfait might have gotten progressively worse as time went by, and lessened her assistance because she was afraid her presence might make me worse…and only other magic users would have been even comparatively safe around me.

Waltz smiles gently at me. "As if I would do anything else for you."

"And I could not do anything for you in return," I say, reminded of the cycle I spent with Waltz in which my mother had won, I had become a shell incapable of love, and he had returned to serving my mother simply to be able to remain near me. I had been incapable of doing anything for him in that condition, as well. But he had still loved me…he still loved me this time as well. Nothing else could explain how he treats me, and in my very soul I know that this is what true love really looks like. True love is not a thing of balls and silk gowns, because it is not concerned with settings. It is not rushed in the heat of a moment or granted with a single glance because it requires patiently getting to know another on a level deep enough to know both their strengths and deepest weakness. It never fizzles out in disappointment when the other person is not who you thought they were but forgives instead, because it recognizes that no mortal is without flaws.

And I realize that this is what is wrong at the heart of the Cinderella story. The prince would have only known that he was attracted to a woman with a small foot, and Cinderella found herself attracted to an escape from unjust circumstances, finding marriage a way to solve her problems. They were infatuated with each other, but not in love. Technically, marriages do not require love, and sometimes when even strangers wed they find themselves able to love each other after a time…but Cinderella and her prince were not in love at the end of the tale. It would have been impossible. They did not know each other well enough to care for each other in spite of their flaws.

I am not without my own flaws, and Waltz loves me anyway. I had almost given up completely, and so close to the finish line. I had let the pain control me…making the very same mistake my mother had. That was how she fell…she let the pain control her. But unlike her, I was loved by people willing to fight for me, by people who were willing to fight alongside me. Mother had never found that kind of love.

I realize that despite every horrible thing that has ever happened to me, I am still the luckiest woman alive to not only have found such love…and I get to be married to the man that loves me so much as well.

"All I wanted was for you to come back to me, and you just did," my husband tells me softly, smiling at me as he gently touches my face with his fingertips. "Nothing else could have made me happier…and that's what you did for me tonight."

Nothing else would have made him happier that time, either. But time had reset instead of that happening, and now is when I get to see what his face would have looked like, had I returned to myself back then. And I have never seen anything more beautiful in my estimation than the quite, grateful joy I see in my husband's face in the light of the campfire.

"I love you, Waltz," I tell my husband. "I want to make you the happiest man alive if it takes me the rest of my life."

His fingertips rest gently on the nape of my neck as he smiles at me. "Tonight, I _am_ the happiest man alive," he tells me as his lips find mine once more.

Later when I close my eyes I find that, as I drift off to sleep again, I only feel peace and safety in my husband's arms. I am no longer using sleep to escape the pain.

….


	65. Last Minute Contingencies

**Chapter 65. Last Minute Contingencies**

As I am unable to resist the temptation the very next morning, before anyone else is up, I wake Parfait by sitting beside her and poking her until she opens her eyes. When she sees that it is me grinning down at her, she becomes fully alert immediately—quite clearly shocked—and enfolds me in her arms before she starts weeping as I assure her that I am fine. And warm fairly magic washes over the entire campsite like a wave as she feeds the Lucis her joy. This, of course, wakes the rest of the camp, and I am soon enfolded into other arms as well. Every face wears relief while I am greeted, welcomed back into the world in which I once dwelt.

My husband stands a little apart from the group, smiling at me, and I notice Nieva pulling on his cloak to get him to bend down so she can talk to him properly. After they speak for a few minutes, he enfolds the child in a hug. I can guess at the contents of their conversation, that she is informing him of our conversation last night, but I am unable to hear exactly what was said as I have yet to extricate myself from Parfait's grasp.

"You did it! You came back!" Parfait is saying, over and over again.

Once she slows down, I finally answer her, "I am sorry that I was gone for so long."

"You couldn't help it," my fairy friend tells me, still crying happy tears. "A mortal can only take so much before…. And your mother didn't…but you did!"

"I had to come back," I whisper to her. "I was loved better, and by more people, than she was."

Parfait's tears slow, and finally stop. "You're right, and…."

"Don't say that _you_ did not love her well enough," I tell her. "She failed you as much as she failed anyone…and you never failed _me_."

The excitement of my return causes something of a late start, and it is only after Delora has her turn to hug me that it occurs to her to get the camp moving towards departure. In no time at all, she has porridge made, the knights are saddling the horses, snow has been melted to fill the canteens, and everyone is swallowing a quick breakfast before mounting again. As soon as I am done with mine, I go talk to Fritz who is packing the bedrolls back into the wagon.

"Thank you for helping Waltz," I tell him, putting up a small sound barrier. "He told me that my…condition…was easier to bear with you assuring him that I would come out of it, and that I would do so in time."

My knight smiles at me. "As much as he was doing for you, helping him was what I needed to do to help you. And…thank you for proving me correct. You had me worried as much as anyone, I think."

"And you still had the faith that I would come around?" I ask.

He nods. "You fight through everything, Princess. I have yet to see you fail."

 _And I hope you never do see me fail._ "I certainly would not want to do that now," I admit to him. "I was so far gone, for a while I didn't even recognize or pay attention to who was taking care of me."

Fritz sighs. "I can only hope to be able to love your sister like your husband does you. A lot of husbands love their wives…but what Waltz has for you is extraordinary. He had to stay awake at night, to hold you and keep you warm, while keeping up his own magical shield that was preventing you from shocking him for the first weeks. Then he would sleep in the wagon while we traveled, and Delora or Parfait would sit with you—once again keeping themselves shielded—and they ensured you were taking meals."

Of course. While I was in pain, I was feeding the Tenebrarum…and letting the magical power loose in an uncontrolled fashion. Trying to take care of me under those circumstances would be like trying to hand feed a dog that was known to bite. And then I realize what else that statement tells me; well, the two things it implies anyway. One, Fritz cannot confirm for me, but I feel for the Tenebrarum and its status, only to find it flawless. This is a relief in and of itself, as I no longer need to worry about fixing it. As to the other….

"You have made a decision concerning Emelaigne, then?" I ask.

Fritz nods. "Assuming she has not changed her mind, I'll ask the king about courting her when we return. She was able to be so strong in the last cycle, and gives up as easily as you do. She might broadcast her emotions as much as you keep them under the surface…but that means that she'll need someone like me to help keep her from people that will attempt to take advantage of that."

And I know that, like most men, Fritz needs to be needed. It is so much easier for a man to love a woman that needs him, and all men hate feeling useless. "And I can admit to some relief," I say. "She could be easy to take advantage of. She does needs someone to take care of her, in that." Especially when she is given long skirts, and fully enters noble society.

And Fritz gives me a wry grin. "Just like your husband? Let's face it Princess, if he was not so wrapped up in you, he'd be trying to help everyone else so much he would forget to take care of himself. Both you and I, on the other hand, are so used to neglect, abandonment, and betrayal we find it hard to trust…and really need to be in a relationship with someone as open as your husband or sister. We both need a balm; someone we will let past our shields, that we know couldn't hid anything from us even if they wanted to. I think I might need her as much as she needs me."

It goes unsaid since there are so many ears near us and Fritz has no way to tell if our conversation is private, but I can read between the lines. Fritz has decided that while he deeply cares for me, that he is not in love with me…that it would be unhealthy for him to be in a relationship with anyone like me. The two of us are simply too akin for anything more than friendship to really work between us. And I am profoundly relieved that he has come to this conclusion.

"This conversation is private if you wish to say anything else," I tell him, and Fritz pauses for a moment.

"Does…does Emelaigne know that I had admired you at one point?" he asks.

I nod. "She had suspicions that you did," I admit. "I did not deny it. Personally, I think it better to be frank when possible."

He gives me something of an embarrassed grin. "I hope she doesn't feel like she might be getting your hand-me-downs…."

I have to laugh softly. I suppose in most families, younger children get the clothing the older ones grow out of. Clothes are one thing, but a man…. "I think that she would take you however she could have you," I tell him. "She might retain some concern regarding if you are truly happy with her, if she is someone you 'settled for' when you could not have me."

Fritz nods. "She deserves better than that," he admits, and then pauses for a second before he continues. "You mentioned once that she had even liked me when I had shown up as Varg?"

I nod. It had been one of the tidbits I had mentioned to him to pass the time, while we were riding together. I had neglected to mention that Rod had been my lover, that time. "Varg showed up at a ball to find her a suitor. Your father attempted a coup, but Myth betrayed him. The ball rather abruptly ended after that…but she was quite happy that Varg stayed in the palace. I could not tell you if she liked that side of you too, or if she simply recognized you under the mask."

My knight sighs. "I think that most people try to hide something about themselves, hide their problems, conflicts, and fears where they do not see the light of day. I cannot say that I am unaffected by the fact that she saw that part of me, and still wanted me, Princess."

"I think I told you," I say with a smile, "that you will have to call me 'Lucette' if you are going to be my brother.

Fritz smiles as he finishes throwing the last of the bedrolls into the wagon. "You seem to be taking several things for granted."

"I sincerely doubt Emelaigne would change her mind," I say. "And father would allow it as well. Now, he owes you almost as much as he owes Waltz."

He thinks about that for a moment. "And the entire country knows that I served Angielle…but gives me credit for something that did not happen like they thought it did. I find that…very odd."

I shrug. "I work around such things as well as I can. Last cycle, Maeve got credit for saving my father's life, and I got credit for the 'warehouse rescue.' With her not saving Father this time, I sent her to the warehouse so she would get recognition for rescuing those girls."

Fritz nods. "My friend Rom's sister was saved during that."

"I know," I reply. "And I am glad of it. She was beyond rescue when I got there, last time."

And my knight shivers. "I do not know if it was just one more thing to see to before you left Angielle…but thank you for that. It meant the world to my friend, to have her back. Rom had been supporting her, raising her essentially on his own, since their parents died during the war. He entered the knighthood early in order to do so, since they had no other means of support but his father had ensured his acceptance into service should Rom wish it."

"I…did not know that," I admit, as this news adds another dimension to how I think about what happened. It would be one thing to lose a sister to slavers, but one that you were raising into adulthood by yourself? And Rom had chosen a more dangerous profession, albeit one that paid better than many starting wages, in order to take care of his sister. And I cannot help but be glad that I let him kill Alcaster during the last cycle.

The war had taken nearly everything from Rom, and Alcaster had taken everything that he had left.

…..

Waltz rides with me this morning, but is replaced in the afternoon by Chevalier who has quite a lot to tell me. Happy that he remains in his 'professional' mode when giving medical advice, I listen while the doctor gives me a list of things to avoid doing that might stimulate labor, and I wince at it. "Please tell me that you have already told my husband," I say, hoping that Waltz already knows not to expect much tonight.

"Oh, I've already gone over this with him, as well as the signs of labor to watch for," Chevalier tells me, before going into that topic. Apparently I'm already displaying the first, the baby moving downwards, which is why the physician thinks I have possibly a week, but certainly less than two weeks, before the baby arrives. Then he tells me about how to tell the difference between 'real' and 'practice' contractions, and that my water breaking would mean labor had started although it could also start before the water breaks.

He goes into describing labor itself, and from his description of it I would almost rather be in battle instead. I am astounded by the things the physician considers 'normal' during birth, like that my son's head could be misshapen from birth, lots of pain, and blood.

Blood. My blood. And then it clicks.

"Princess, is this too much for you right now?" Chevalier asks me, looking concerned. "You…are rather pale. I know that even the thought of blood disturbs some, but I assure you that it is an inescapable part of childbirth. I'll be right there with you the entire time."

"No you won't," I whisper. "That would be impossible."

He frowns. "And the reason for this would be…?" he inquires instead of contradicting me.

I take a deep breath and explain. "When my husband and I were courting, one day he took me to a fortune-telling witch. Everything she told me came true in the last cycle and the one before that…except for when she said that my blood would be on 'the white of hallowed ground.' I've never known if this meant a small cut, death, or something in between…but childbirth would fit. And I am nearly ready to give birth, and we are nearly to the hallowed ground of the holy city, at the very throne of the gods. And you cannot pass the gates." Only the Bearers will be able to come inside the gates.

Chevalier straightens, startled. "But then…. But you still need someone to attend you!"

"Then teach Parfait," I find myself saying. "She will be coming with me, and I will not risk that any of the other Bearers has any medical skill." Personally, I find it as likely that Veles knows petit point as he would know how to deliver a baby. "I'll probably go into labor once I get through the gates, or perhaps shortly before. Either way, I have to get there before the actual birth."

And the doctor nods. "Your husband said that the babe has a heart problem, that you were guaranteed his survival if you got through the gates before he is born. According to the holy texts, nothing deteriorates in the holy city, so whatever condition he is born in, he would still survive while within the city."

And it occurs to me that I know very little about what to expect once we get to the gates. I really need to ask Parfait about that. Hopefully, she knows. And I call to my husband and my friend when they ride close enough to hear, and explain the situation. Waltz is silent, and Parfait whitens a bit. "I'm guessing that you have never done anything of the sort before," I sigh, looking at Parfait. "Unless you can tell me that one of the other Bearers has medical training, I do not see another way around it."

"I…no, I've never delivered a baby, or even been present for a birth," Parfait slowly admits. "I do not know that any of the other Bearers have done so. I'm really not sure…."

"Parfait," I remind her, "the gods promised that if I got there before he was born, that he would die only of old age. That is unlikely to happen during the birthing process, so you are not going to kill the baby on accident."

She smiles weakly at me, and Chevalier actually laughs. "Princess," he says, "that might be the most backhanded way to tell someone that you have confidence that they won't foul up things that I have ever heard!"

I shrug. "It sounds logical to me."

"I'm sure that you will do just fine," my husband tells the fairy, who still looks somewhat uncertain. "Lucette will be doing the hard work."

And now it is my turn to smile weakly, now that I have a better idea of what that entails.

Parfait sighs. "I don't see another reasonable choice, and I have done more difficult things during my time. Very well…but I expect you to tell me everything that I need to know, Chevalier."

The doctor nods. "If someone wants to switch places, we can start going over things now."

My husband immediately volunteers to switch with the doctor, and Parfait and Chevalier ride close together while they talk. My husband puts up a small sound ward, and I sigh. "So," he asks, "did you simply forget that I would not remember things that happened when we were courting _before_ we were married the first time?"

Of course he would ask me this, while offering me a way out. I could say that I had merely forgotten, but…. "Not…exactly," I admit. If I was not forthright with him about this, like he would have wanted me to be, at least I can still be honest about it. "I did not really realize that her prophecies concerning me were coming true until partway through the last cycle, that I should expect the fulfillment of the rest of it. I was not sure how much I should be worried about it…it might have only meant that I would scrape a knee someplace 'hallowed.' You worry so much about me, and the other two times in the prophecy it was bloodshed that resulted in death, and I had the choice between continuing to the throne of the gods or accepting corruption, so…."

He only looks at me, but I can see disappointment in his eyes as I drop my gaze from his. My husband is silent for a moment before he sighs. "Lucette…you should have told me. No matter how bad or good you believe the news is…I still want to know, especially about something important like this."

"I know," I whisper, still looking at my hands that lie in my lap. "I…I'm sorry Waltz."

His arm comes around to draw me into a hug. "You're forgiven for it," he tells me, and my eyes come up to his face again once more. "Please…let me know what you are going through. I can help you with it better if I know what you are dealing with. I might have realized that she could have meant childbirth some time ago, and you would not have needed to worry about it as you did."

"Alright," I agree, relieved at being forgiven for my lapse so easily, but then my husband has another question for me.

"And 'prophecies concerning you?' Did she say anything else?" Waltz asks.

I give him a weak smile. "She also said that your life depended on another man loving me enough to let me choose who I wanted. That was fulfilled when Fritz killed Myth when he did. Otherwise, Myth would have killed you…and things would have been so much different."

And now Waltz turns a little pale. "I…never thought that I would be happy that another man loved you before you put it like that…."

I note that our sound ward is still up, and grin at my husband. "You've always been so…gracious about that."

"You also thought that I was a real kid for some time," he deadpans.

"You did look like one, back then," I note, certain that that particular fact is my saving grace in the matter. "How was I to know differently? You did not break your curse for the first time until relatively late in that decade."

He sighs. "I might regret asking this…but I remember you saying that I wasn't your first choice, or even the third. Fritz I am sure of, Karma is a reasonable guess and I believe either one would fight for you and treat you well so they are tolerable choices…but who else…?"

I wipe my expression blank as I try not to laugh. "You are probably going to think this is funny."

"I bet I won't," my husband tells me, not looking as if he is sure of that statement.

"Rod and Chevalier," I say, still straight-faced, but unable to keep a twinkle from my eyes.

And my husband looks dumfounded for a moment before he can speak again. "That…that flirtatious, endless mill of terrible puns? And…and your _brother_?!"

I shrug, trying to hold back laughter. "Rod and I aren't related by blood, you know, and at the time I was as much of a kid as he is now. And I recall slapping Rumpel an awful lot."

Waltz blinks as he looks at me, dumbfounded. "You're serious?" he finally says.

"Very," I say, as I start to chuckle at him. "And I am _never_ going to tell my little brother that I got my first kiss from _him_."

And Waltz can only look at me for a moment before he joins in my laughter. "I can see where that would be awkward," he admits once our laughter dies down…which of course, starts me giggling again.

It feels so good to be able to laugh again.

…..

That evening I give half of my attention to the conversation between Parfait and Chevalier, as between supper bites the doctor is having the fairy repeat information back to him to ensure she understands it correctly. Apparently, they have already covered everything involving an uncomplicated birth, and have now gone to addressing what complications could occur and what to do about them. They start talking about bleeding, and apparently redheads like me are at an increased risk to bleed more….

I sigh, trying to tune them out, and look around for anything or anyone else to set my attention on. My eyes fall on Klaude who is finishing feeding the horses while everyone else is eating, and has yet to get his own supper. Remembering what Waltz said about Klaude blaming himself, I quickly finish my own supper, get another bowl of stew and a piece of bread, and bring it to the back of the wagon where he is putting horse tack up for the night.

"You need to eat, too," I say, offering him the food.

And he looks at me, surprised. "Princess…you really don't have to concern yourself with this," he says, quickly taking the food from me and setting the still warm bowl on a wagon step so it can continue to cool.

I shrug, sticking a small sound barrier up. "It's an excuse," I say, tilting my head as I look at him. "I notice that you are working much harder with chores now than when we first started. Something changed."

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then sighs. "Why did you bring me along?" he asks. "It would have been easier to get another knight to perform the services I have been helping with. I could have started the journey with you, and then left after a few weeks after my curse was gone."

I nod. If I had simply wanted a fourth knight, Rom would have made a tolerable choice, but Klaude needed to come. "I could have, but how would you have felt turning your back on our mission?"

His mouth twists. "I…I think I would have regretted it, Princess. If things had gone poorly…I would have always wondered if I could have made a difference if I had continued on…if I could have prevented it in some way. I don't think I would have forgiven myself for not coming."

I nod. "And your opinion on that matter now?"

Klaude looks pained a moment before he can answer me. "I…what almost happened…you could have…and I would have been responsible!"

"How are you responsible for my mother's actions?" I ask. "She's the one most responsible for causing this entire ordeal."

"I didn't mean it that way," Klaude tries to explain. "I mean, that my questions changed your perspective on her actions, and you were almost lost because of that. You have my most heartfelt apologies, Princess. If I had known…if I had thought…I never should have…."

"You are responsible in no way for anything my mother has ever done to me, or anyone else," I tell him. "The only thing you did was make me question her motives, though I will admit the wisdom of doing so was…questionable."

" _Questionable_?" he asks, appalled. "I almost ruined everything! I almost doomed Angielle…and I would be a fool to think that would not have cast more than a shadow on Brugantia as well."

"That…was certainly a possible outcome of those particular actions," I admit, unable to stop a shiver. "But I think that this ordeal helped me in my own objective concerning you. You were rather spoiled, giving little heed to how your actions could help or harm others…just like I used to be. You…usually grow as a person concerning that during the cycles, and I did not want to risk you not making similar progress the one time it counted. So, I brought you along."

Klaude is silent for a moment. "You…took me along to teach me?" he finally says, sounding a bit uncertain. "I doubt you engineered the situation, even if your goal had been to make me more aware in how I conduct myself."

I sigh, and try to elaborate. "I did not become depressed and silent for weeks for your sole benefit, no. But you speak and act without giving it much thought so often, that it was inevitable that you would make _some_ sort of an error eventually. As to why correcting this is important, we will both be monarchs one day. It would be an understatement to say that our decisions affect others, that our words carry weight. It would be more appropriate to say that men and women might live or die based on what we say or do…and what we do not. If you do not take care, you will break much more than hearts."

The prince nods. "I could have doomed friends and nations to darkness and damnation through my carelessness, if you had become corrupted."

"If it had happened," I remind him, "you would not have been the only factor in that, but you would have been _a_ factor. It's one thing I have learned with this cycling…the smallest misstep might cause death and disaster. Even if one gets everything else right but fails at one critical juncture…."

"Then everything else might fail, and it will all be for naught," Klaude admits softly. "I need to be ever mindful if I wish to avert potential disasters. Second chances are not a given, and once something precious is lost, it might be gone forever."

And that is also a reminder to me as well, that I cannot falter now. "If you swear to never forget this lesson, I will consider it worth the cost of it," I tell him.

"I swear it," he says immediately, seemingly relieved to have such easy penance for his lapse of judgement. He had known that I was in a fragile state, and had not turned the conversation to something harmless when my mother had come up; he had voiced further observations about her instead. If he had thought about it, he would have known that at best the topic was painful to me and spoken of something else. It _had_ been a mistake that could have plunged a kingdom into darkness. "I will never forget."

I smile at him. "Then I will have to do my job, so time returns to normal you will not have to learn this lesson again."

…..

Parfait joins me after supper, pulling me into the wagon to chat in private after we were done talking in public. In public, she has told me of what to expect when we reach our destination. Now I know that there is a temple we must pass through to get to the gates, that rather than having human keepers those priests are immortal themselves but that we should have no trouble getting past them since the gods will our presence, that we have to insert our Crystallum within the gates and then physically touch them to be absorbed into them and come out the other side into the holy city, and that we cannot use magic while within the city. It does not surprise me that she wishes to speak to me in private as well…we have more catch up on, I suspect. "Thank you for agreeing to deliver the baby," I tell her, sitting down on the bed as she closes the door to the wagon behind us. "I know that I sort of pushed you into it…."

She smiles at me as she sits down next to me. "I have a feeling that the ordeal will be harder on you than on me. And, if you are correct in your assumption, there really is not another choice anyway."

I sigh, realizing that I could be wrong. I could still scrape my knee somewhere 'hallowed' and have the baby a week later. However, I doubt that I am wrong. "I can't say that I'm not nervous about the entire thing," I admit.

"Nor I," the fairy admits. "However, I still find it much preferable to other situations I have had to face. I had to fight your mother, fully facing what she had become…so delivering my godson seems easier when I compare it to that."

Both of our eyes drift towards the coffins that contain our Crystallum. "The Tenebrarum finished healing when I was dysfunctional," I say. "How is the Lucis fairing?"

Parfait smiles at me. "Quite nearly done. I should finish it in the next day or two. I had not been able to work on it much while you were…" she trails off, and then shakes herself. "I must admit though; the way you woke me up this morning was the best surprise I'd ever had."

I grin at her. "I really couldn't resist a little bit of fun."

"You were well overdue for it," she admits, and then tilts her head. "Have you checked the knife to see if you've met that measure as well? Even if both Crystallum are in acceptable condition, but if that knife says you still have some ways to go, that could be…problematic."

I startle, realizing that I had not thought about it yet. "No…I haven't," I say quietly.

Parfait nods, and stands to rummage through one of the cupboards to find the ink while I reach into my sleeve to unbuckle the knife. By the time I have it out, she has found the inkwell, and has uncorked it for my use. I take a deep breath, and wipe ink across the blade. Both Parfait and I stare at it as the blade becomes visible, and….

"Not yet," I whisper, feeling my stomach sinking.

"It's very close," the fairy tells me, as if trying to encourage me. "Within a hairsbreadth."

And it is. I am very nearly there, but…. "Do I dare try to meet it on my own?" I ask quietly. "I…I don't want to go through what just happened to me again. What if…?"

What if I am unable to climb out of that gloom again a second time, after taking weeks to do so. Would I be vulnerable to corruption again? What if we get there, present my mother as planned, and I still find myself short of the measure? Would I have to repeat this entire cycle again? Would I have to leave my son within the holy city, to claim him again after the cycles restarted?

It would be worse than simply having to curse him. At least I could still sneak away to where I kept him to hold him, and I could pretend that he was just sleeping until I could bring him out of it. But further separation….

"Don't try to meet it on your own, Lucette," Parfait says briskly, snapping me out of my reverie, as if she can guess that my mind is wandering to a dark place again. "It's not worth the risk. _Nothing_ is worth the risk of you becoming vulnerable to corruption again."

"But then how…?"

The fairy sighs. "It is almost met. Do not forget that childbirth itself is very painful. You could still meet the measure that way."

I pause for a moment before returning the knife to its sheath, remembering that I should do so while it remains visible. I could cut myself badly otherwise. I think about what my friend has told me, and it does make sense.

My mother had suffered a great deal of physical pain, as she felt the deaths of the witches. It would stand to reason that the knife might not care if I experienced mental or physical pain to fulfill its measure. According the Chevalier, childbirth…particularly the birth of the first child…is excruciatingly painful. At the very least, subsequent labors tend to be shorter.

I close my eyes and sigh. "Alright. I won't try to inflict pain on myself, and hope that childbirth will do it." It is my least dangerous option…and it leaves the future up in the air. But then again, the future is never certain.

Parfait smiles weakly at me. "Chevalier was going to teach me about medications to try to reduce your pain tomorrow, but I guess we have to skip that."

And I cannot stop a wry laugh. "Parfait," I say, "I am probably the only woman in the world _hoping_ for a long, painful labor."

She chuckles softly. "Have you decided on what to name him? You had not made up your mind earlier, and the child will need a name soon."

I open my mouth to say I have not made a final decision yet, but then something catches my eye. Something is glowing beside the bed, and I reach down to retrieve the crystal ball that Waltz had brought along for part of my lessons while we were on the road. We had not used it that much…but had my husband been using it in private during my long silence, looking for some shred of hope?

As I gaze into it, I can quite clearly see my father, looking younger, cradling a newborn babe in a nursery…cradling me. He is totally enraptured, gazing into my eyes while I look into his, rocking me gently. And for the first time, I can hear sound through the crystal ball as a door opens and my mother walks in.

" _Do not grow accustom to that," she tells my father sternly._

 _He looks up at her. "You forced me in order to have her. Are you going to forbid me from spending time with my daughter on top of that?"_

 _Her lips twist into an expression that I can only call contemptuous. "I allowed you to name her as a token,_ I _decide how she is raised. I am going to be the parent she acknowledges, that she turns to, that she loves. You are to strongly discourage any affection that she might develop for you, and otherwise absent yourself from her life as much as possible."_

 _My father tenses and opens his mouth as if to argue, but then my mother's expression changes to something worse. "If you do otherwise," she threatens, "I will remove her from your sight entirely."_

 _They only look at each other for a minute before the tension leaves my father. He looks dejected, defeated. "I…I understand."_

 _My mother's expression turns to normal…satisfied, a woman looking at her dog that she has just corrected when he attempted to chew the furniture, and the dog has returned to his place. "You are to absent yourself from the nursery."_

" _Please…a little longer?" he begs. "Lucette…she will not remember any of this."_

 _My mother sighs. "Oh, very well," she allows. "You may remain for now, and absent yourself starting tomorrow."_

 _Then she leaves, tossing her dog a bone on her way out of the room._

As the light in the crystal fades, I can see my father weeping as he holds me. And somehow I know…he spent that entire night there with me in the nursery, dreading the coming of the dawn when he would have to let me go.

The crystal ball falls to the bed as I put my face in my hands, and start to weep.

"Lucette?" Parfait asks worriedly. "What…what did you see? Was it…?"

Whatever my friend thought it might be, I do not let her describe it before I answer her. "When I was born…she only…she only…." I trail off as I continue to sob. "She only allowed Father one night in the nursery with me before banishing him from contact with me. She only let Father hold me for _one night_!"

And Parfait wraps me in her arms as I continue to cry, stroking my hair. "She isn't going to do that ever again," the fairy tells me softly. "Nothing can return what she has already taken…but you will be able to walk up to your father and tell him that he can hold his grandson just as much as he likes."

And I know what I must name my son. I cannot do anything else but name him for my father. It is a time for forgiveness, for remembrance...it is a time for healing.

His name is Genaro Cresswell Britton, for his grandfather that was denied the chance to hold me as he wished, and the grandparents my son will never know. My mother had denied them all their own child, but now their grandchild's very conception and birth will be what allows my mother her final destruction...and she will not be allowed to hurt anyone ever again. His beginning heralded her ending, allowing the potential for healing and lasting joy.

Waltz smiles later that night when I tell him what I want to name our son, and tells me that name is perfect.

Three nights later, I wake to find my blankets wet, and it feels like everything in my belly is tightening. I gasp in the pain of it, and frantically shake my husband awake. He stirs immediately, and puts a ball of light up so he can see what is going on.

"The baby is coming?!" he asks, and I can only nod in response as I gasp.

When the squeezing stops, I find myself able to speak again. "I think so. This does not feel like the 'practice' contractions, and I think my water broke."

And my husband pales. "But we aren't there yet."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, and then nod. "We are going to have to fix that, and soon."

And my husband practically flies out of the wagon, yelling for Parfait to wake up, and for someone to saddle a few horses.

We will have to ride the rest of the way on horseback, and probably at a gallop.

…..


	66. Past the Gates

**Chapter 66. Past the Gates**

I cast the spell to get rid of fluids on my clothes so I do not freeze as soon as I exit the wagon, and put on my warmest cloak before my husband gets back into the wagon with Chevalier behind him. The doctor takes only minutes to conclude that I am indeed in labor, and he is quickly replaced by Parfait who has come into the wagon for the bag with the supplies she will need to deliver the baby, and her Crystallum. The fairy is still rubbing sleep from her eyes, but is looking more alert as she moves from one task to the other.

And I have to move the Tenebrarum first. Waltz unhooks the leather straps keeping the coffin in place, and lifts the lid. I hesitate for only a second before willing my Crystallum to rise from its place nestled in the box, and out of the wagon. The perfectly clear crystal glitters in the firelight once I move it outside, my mother's expression still blissfully unaware of what is about to occur. It is only moments later that Parfait has her golden Crystallum out of its coffin, and she joins us to stand in the eye of the commotion that was a sleeping camp only a few minutes ago.

The knights are only saddling two horses, and Delora is walking back from them. "I cast a spell so those two horses think the Crystallum are merely the magical lanterns they are used to," she explains without preamble. "You and Waltz can ride the larger one," she tells me, "and Waltz will ensure that you do not fall off while you pull your Crystallum along." Delora turns to the fairy. "Parfait, you can ride the other. As you aren't going to be distracted by labor, I take it you can both steer the horse and pull the Lucis along."

Parfait nods. "I should be able to. And…I'm glad that I stayed up to finish it tonight."

"Wonderful," I sigh. I had known that she was still working on it when I went to bed earlier. It is good that she finished it in time. I do not feel like I have slept much, but I have no expectation that the babe cares about such things. "What time is it, anyway?"

"According to the knights," Delora tells me, "Fritz was just waking Garlan for their switch at midnight when Waltz came flying out of the wagon."

I nod, wrapping myself in my lined cloak against the cold. Midnight. And Delora was guessing we had about a half day's travel to reach our destination when we stopped last night. I might have as many hours left before the actual birth, but then again…I might not. According to Chevalier, babes are very unpredictable little creatures. At least we will be going faster on horseback than we might if I was riding the wagon instead.

At any rate, the only thing I can do about it is allow my husband to help me up onto the horse, and hold on tight to the pommel of the saddle while he climbs up after me. "We're going to make it, Lucette," he tries to comfort me. "Don't worry about staying on the horse. Just pull the Tenebrarum along beside us…but far enough that you don't accidently brush it…and I will see to everything else."

"Of course," I say, watching Parfait as she gets up onto her own horse. Chevalier rushes up with something for her to drink, saying that it will keep her awake and her energy up. From her face as she drinks it, it must taste vile, but she thanks him and hands the doctor back the cup.

And without further ado, Waltz starts the horse trotting away from camp and into the night down the mountain road, our way lit by the glowing pair of Crystallum as we ride. I am able to do little but shiver within my cloak, and concentrate on moving the Tenebrarum alongside us. Whenever the squeezing hits, I clench my teeth and moan until it is over, still fixated on moving my Crystallum. My back hurts, especially when Waltz has the horse moving quickly, and I am certain that the horse is as relieved as I when he allows it a slower pace so he does not tire the animal out as quickly. I have to remind myself as the horse breaks into a fast canter again that I _want_ pain when my back starts to hurt worse again.

It is only when light starts to peak from over the top of the mountains that my husband says anything. "They are coming faster, aren't they?" he asks as I finish with another contraction. They are coming perhaps every ten minutes now.

"That's how it works," I say through still clenched teeth.

My husband sighs. "I would say that I wish that this wasn't painful, but…."

"I know," I say, as I am now able to take a deep breath and relax a little again.

"We are almost there," Waltz tells me. "We passed a marker a few minutes ago."

"Good," I say, moving the Tenebrarum in a little closer so it won't run into a rock.

The pain and my focus in moving my Crystallum are not the only subjects of my thoughts. There is worry over my baby, if we will get there in time, but now that I know that we probably will there is another concern.

I will have to face my mother.

I have known that this was inevitable for some time, but very soon she will awake finding herself in the holy city, knowing that in spite of what she thought impossible, that I had still found a way to destroy her without destroying myself. What will she do about it? What _could_ she do about it? Will she try to fight, or escape?

I know that none of us will be able to use magic once we pass the gates. I find myself relieved that Fulgur is a large man, and that Veles has to have some strength after all that sword practice. Either one would be able to physically overpower her. There is a very strong possibility they will have to drag her, kicking and screaming, into the midst of the city where the gods sit on their thrones.

I know that we must be close to our destination indeed when we pass the first camp. In the early morning light, I see that there is a single tent, and two horses tied up near a tree as a fairy I have never seen tends them. Both the clothing and the tent are simple, and the fairy stares warily at us as we pass.

 _Veles._ It could belong to no one else. It does not surprise me that the fairy only brought a single companion, and simple accommodations. I can only assume that Veles himself is already within the temple, waiting inside his Crystallum within the gate.

A little further down the road, there is another camp. There are several tents and perhaps a dozen horses, and I can see that the tents appear expensive. There are perhaps a half dozen witches that peer at us as we ride past, as well as a few human servants that appear to be readying breakfast and tending to the horses. The animals are tied behind where a carriage sits.

 _Regius, obviously. It is little wonder Veles was so surprised when he saw my accommodations in the war camp during the last cycle, if he was expecting me to have something like that._

The last camp is the largest, and contains both fairies and witches though I do not see any servants here. Instead of the austerity of Veles' camp or the extravagance of the one belonging to Regius, the tents appear built for functionality instead of luxury, and the occupants are performing their own camp chores. It smacks of the practicality of my Brugantian counterpart, and I can only guess that he planned everything before collecting Alicula.

 _Fulgur and Alicula traveled together._

And I cannot help but breathe a sigh of relief, having noted the arrival of all of the other Bearers. We can begin as soon as we get there. And 'there' is approaching quickly. Wedged between two mountains is a structure that appears to be made of solid marble, white on one side and black on the other. It is smaller than I thought it would be, no taller than the temple within the city, and the only opening I can see are tall, slender doors that sit in the middle of the structure, at the end of our road.

I have to grit my teeth and concentrate on moving my Tenebrarum again as another contraction hits, and by the time it is over I find that Waltz is slowing the horse as we approach the doors. When we stop in front of them, Waltz gets off to help me off of the panting horse. I pause a moment to rub the animal's neck. "Thank you," I tell it, using a simple spell to calm it and decrease its exhaustion. "You got me here in time." I do not know if the animal understands me, but it nickers at me before I turn around to face the doors.

The doors open before us, and I stop only to kiss my husband before going through. "It's going to be fine," he tells me as he lets me go, and I know that he is trying to convince himself as well. There is still worry in his eyes. He hates that he cannot come with me.

"We got this far," I tell him. "Now it's time to go the rest of the way." I sigh as I release my hold on his arms, and follow Parfait with our Crystallum through the doors.

While the outside was black and white, the inside is grey marble with pillars. Two tall, nearly human men dressed in black and white robes are waiting for us, and after Parfait and I are inside the doors close seemingly on their own accord.

I call the men 'nearly' human, because while they resemble men, they are obviously something else. One has black skin and the other white, but they are too slender for men, and stand nearly two feet taller than Waltz. These must be the immortal doorkeepers.

"The Bearers of Angielle. We have been expecting you," the dark one in the black robe says.

"We do not normally allow objects to be taken within the gates," the white one in shining white robes says, gesturing to the bag Parfait carries, "but in this case, supplies to assist in childbirth are necessary."

"And you did allow that fairy to take rope," the dark one says, "after arguing with him for several hours over it."

And I am unsure if I should laugh or not. _Veles brought rope!_ At least one of the other Bearers is fully prepared to drag my mother kicking and screaming to her fate. And I can only guess that he would be the one to relish that task the most.

Come to think of it, Veles is the only other Bearer besides Parfait and myself that knows the entirety of the contract. He may be the only one _expecting_ Mother if he arrived last. I can only assume that those that arrived first chose the camping spots closest to the entrance.

"If you want to drop your cloaks by the door, we will take you to the gates," the white garbed one says.

I nod, and Parfait and I shed our cloaks quickly and put them beside the door where other cloaks lie, as well as a sword I recognize as belonging to Veles. They had gotten him to put down his sword, anyway, if not the rope. I notice that it is warm in here, despite the fact that it is cold outside and there are no fires here. And there is light, though there are no candles, lanterns, or windows. _Well, the gods can will whatever they wish. In their entryway, naturally they would make this obvious._

We are led from the anteroom through hallways, and I have to stop a couple of times, leaning on Parfait, when another contraction hits. "Are you going to be able to walk?" my friend asks, concerned.

I sigh, knowing that she does not have much strength herself for me to lean on. "I'm doing my best."

"Stubborn witch," the dark robed one says, and I find myself picked up off of my own feet once more, only having to concentrate on moving my own Crystallum as everything is squeezing again.

"I…cannot dispute that," Parfait says, smiling at me.

"Thank you," I gasp, relieved to be off my feet once more.

"You are really free to ask for help, you know," he tells me. "There is no shame in admitting that you are having trouble doing something yourself."

I think about that for a moment. "I…do not like incurring debt," I finally answer. And I do not like debt at all, especially when I do not know what the price for something is. There are relatively few people I will allow myself to lean on, and I brought most of them here with me. I know from experience that they will all help me without asking me for much. All they ever wanted was for me to avoid my mother's fate, and that is something I wanted for myself as well.

"If you breathe, you are in debt to someone," he answers, "and if you give of yourself to others, they are in debt to you. It is a part of relationships, and humans were made to be relational beings."

I am unable to answer that, both because I am not sure what to say and because the squeezing is starting is starting to hurt more as it lasts longer.

We finally go through a door, and find ourselves…somewhere else. While I see the door we just stepped through behind us, it is one of about a dozen or so unsupported doors that exist in a flat meadow, and a golden wall rises before us broken only by gates that seem to rise into the sky like the walls themselves. The gates are white with flecks of colors, as if they are made of a giant opal. In the bottom near the ground, there are crevices that would fit Crystallum, and some of these are already filled.

I feel myself being lowered back to the ground. "Remember," he says, "you may only go on the wide road between the gates and the inner sanctum. Only the dead may walk elsewhere. You may talk to them if you wish, and they will be able to understand you…but you will not be able to hear them."

"Of course," I agree, wondering what the dead look like as they dwell within the holy city as I find balance on my own legs again.

The two doorkeepers stay put beside the door as Parfait and I walk along the gate to find recesses for our own Crystallum. The Brugantian Bearers appear to have arrived first. An orange-haired fairy in a green dress is the first I see deep within her Crystallum, as if frozen with her hand stretched out toward the other side. Blue eyes are open wide, and Alicula is wearing a smile as if she has just told someone a joke.

Fulgur is in the next slot, dark-haired, and being as large and as muscular as a blacksmith he appears to take up his entire Crystallum. From the little of his expression that I can see from this angle, Alicula thought her joke funnier than he did.

We pass Regius next, the blond man with piercing green eyes appearing an aristocrat from his head to his toes. Apparently, he had decided to wear the sort of attire normally reserved for balls and diplomatic functions at the palace to meet with the gods. I find that I cannot fault his choice of clothes, but it makes me self-conscious that I will be wearing a middle class, travel stained dress that will in all probability also be quite bloody by the time I get to the actual Thrones. But there is no helping that. Under the circumstances, this is the best that I can do.

Last of all is Veles, and the blue-haired fairy does indeed have a length of rope hanging from his belt. And he looks almost…eager, yellow eyes open and bright as he reaches toward the other side of the gate.

"Here we go," Parfait says, moving down one slot to allow me the first available one. "This will allow Veles to be on one side of you, and me the other. One of us should be there before your mother tries anything. Hopefully, she will be too shocked to react immediately."

 _Just in case my mother tries to hurt me…again_. I nod, allowing Parfait to enter her Crystallum first. Only when she is completely inside do I will my Tenebrarum within the slot, and reach into it. It feels warm, and then cool as I pass into it, seemingly like I am trapped in thick water as I come into physical contact with my mother. Her eyes open and widen, and I push her ahead of me, and out on the other side. I gasp for breath and shake myself, noting the other Bearers just finishing exiting their Crystallum as I exit and pull my own foot out.

I have to gasp again at the sight of the city. The road before us is snowy white, clearly marked, but everything else appears somehow both vibrant and washed out as I view it with my mortal eyes. There are houses as far as I can see, places for gardens, and all of it appears to be rich. There is no poverty here, and there are no walls to serve as boundaries save the one I just passed through. All around us are crowds of people, transparent and shimmering from the distance I am viewing them at. A few stand close enough for me to pick out features as they gape at us. The living do not come here often.

And there is my mother before me, on her hands and knees as that is where she fell when I pushed her through. And she looks around her, her eyes widening as she realizes where she is, and she looks up at me in shock.

"Are you surprised, Mother?" I ask her. "You should not be. This was the only acceptable option that you gave me."

I do not know if she is lunging in my direction to harm me, or to attempt to get back out through the Tenebrarum, but I never find out. Before she can do much more that get to her feet, Parfait is in front of me to block her, and Veles is there grabbing her arms to hold them behind her back. My mother is silent for a moment, taking note that she is outnumbered in a place she cannot use magic, and a cold stillness settles over her. Her eyes narrow at me, and I expect only venom from her. "You betray your own mother, Lucette. What have you done?! And…and _how_?!"

The Brugantian Bearers and Regius come over to us. Alicula's eyes are wide as she asks, "That's Hildyr, isn't it!"

I gasp as everything starts squeezing again, and while I clench my teeth and try to keep from moaning, Parfait answers for me. "We found the rest of the contract. Lucette had a choice of accepting corruption, or experiencing the same amount of pain that Hildyr did without becoming corrupted and bringing her mother here for judgement."

"But the cycles were to end shortly after your eighteenth birthday!" my mother exclaims. "This should be impossible!"

"Not if I became pregnant," I say, practically gasping as the squeezing eases. "The Tenebrarum would not allow a future Bearer to be destroyed. It kept me physically static as time reset twice, damaging itself to do so. I've had to fix it each time. Because it kept me static, I retained my magic."

"And naturally you have seen to meeting the measure of pain required, and we can proceed without further interruption?" Veles asks.

Parfait shakes her head slowly. "She's within a hairsbreadth of meeting it…and in labor right now."

"What?" Veles says, surprised. "Why in the world did you not wait until…."

"I couldn't," I explain, interrupting him. "The babe will die without Healing, and the last Healer in Angielle is dead. The gods promised that if I got through the gates before he was born, that my baby would live. The pain of labor might meet the measure, but if not…." I trail off, shuddering. "If not," I admit quieter, "we will all need to do this over again."

"A hard choice," Regius admits, folding his arms. "But I cannot fault yours. I am willing to come a second time if it becomes necessary." Beside him, Fulgur and Alicula nod in agreement.

"Of course," my mother spits, glaring at the other Bearers. " _Now_ only after I rid Angielle of the danger to witches does everyone get together and cooperate. When the danger was real, you were all useless."

"For what it is worth, I did try Hildyr," Fulgur tells her. "I suggested going to the gods with this, after I had seen to the safety of my own witches, but I never got an answer back from you. In fact, my emissary never returned at all. The next thing I heard was that you had murdered the king, and made yourself queen…corrupting yourself. Were _you_ responsible for their deaths?"

"There was a Brugantian witch and fairy that were killed together during the Hunts, before they ended when the king was killed," Parfait explains. "I did not find out about it until later. They did not make it very far past the border into Angielle before humans ambushed them. I had not guessed that they might have been emissaries from you until relatively recently."

"I had nothing to do with _that_ ," my mother admits, now glaring at Parfait. "I never heard about it at all. But if the fairy decided to die with the witch you sent, and least there was _one_ fairy willing to stand with a witch against danger…one that did not _run away_."

"I stopped running," Parfait says almost too softly to hear. "Nothing can take back what has already been done, but your daughter does not hold a debt against me for my lack of action. In spite of everything you have done to try to ruin, corrupt her…she is everything you _should_ have been Hildyr."

And my mother's cold gaze turns to me now. "Ah yes, my _dear_ daughter," she says in a voice halfway between ice and frostbite. "The one that has apparently decided to betray her own mother to face the…justice of the gods, if you can even call it that after what happened to me to cause this. Tell me Lucette, what man fathered your child so you would have the ability to destroy me?"

And I can only give her a frosty smile of my own. I have been anticipating answering this question with pleasure. "Do you have a good hold on her?" I ask Veles, who then tightens his grip on her. "I married Waltz Cresswell…your apprentice that you _failed_ to corrupt…after I broke the curse you gave him, Mother. This is his child."

And her eyes only get wider before she starts screaming and tries to lunge at me. In her fury, she almost gets away from Veles who has to tackle her to keep her from getting to me, and both Fulgur and Regius have to hold her down so Veles can tie her up with his rope. She yells awful things about both me and my husband as she is bound, most of it concerning one traitor for another.

When they are finished tying her up, Regius looks just about ready to laugh. "Lucette," he says wryly, "I have yet to hear a stronger recommendation to someone's character, if Hildyr hates your husband so."

I can only nod at him. Of course. If you want the measure of someone, ask not only his friends but his enemies about him. If someone as evil as my mother hates them, it is highly probable that they are someone worth knowing.

When her hands are bound behind her back and her arms to her side, my mother ceases to struggle, allowing Veles to pull her back to her feet. The maniacal rage has been replaced with chill once more, and from the way she stands I can only assume she is trying to give the impression that she had never lost her dignity by being pounced on by three men. She is trying to give the impression that Veles is merely a footman attending her, and the fairy sees it.

"We should probably move further down the road away from the gates just in case she tries to launch herself through a Crystallum…or are you done struggling, _Your Majesty_?" Veles asks, sounding very satisfied with himself. I can only guess that, due to his dislike of nobles, he is relishing the excuse to drag an evil queen to her well-deserved doom. "Or can she even claim that title anymore, with another woman on the throne?" he says, turning his head to address me.

I nod my head. "Whether they were divorced, or she falsely declared dead, she still retains the title," I say. "Both she and Ophelia share the title…but such things do not matter here."

"I should have killed that doxy," my mother says, her now mild tone in contrast to her words. "If she hadn't married another man immediately, I would have done so."

"Father told her to do that, afraid that you would kill her if she did not," I answer. "And she is a great deal better to me than you ever were."

My mother opens her mouth for a retort, but is startled when Veles shoves her uphill towards the center of the city, and we all begin to move. "If you two are going to argue," he notes, "we might as well move while doing so. Just let us know when we have to stop, Lucette."

I nod. "I think there is a little time, yet, but not a lot of it."

"I can carry you, if you need it," Fulgur tells me.

"I…think I will take you up on that offer," I say, and allow the large man to pick me up. Carrying me does not seem to bother him in the least, as if I weighed no more than a young child.

"One thing I want to know," my mother tells me, "is how you found out that a pregnancy would allow you to maintain your power. It was not a possibility I had thought of."

"That…was actually an accident," I admit, relieved that I do not have to worry about walking, or moving my Crystallum in the midst of my contractions. "I had not intended to marry within the cycles, either, but sometimes unintended consequences occur."

"Then why did you do so?" Regius asks me, curious, from where he is walking beside Fulgur.

"I had not known how to stop the cycling, and in another cycle, Parfait had suggested trying to bring balance," I explain. "During the cycles, my father is overthrown by his military advisor, Alcaster, and his political advisor…who is actually my mother's corrupted apprentice Myth in disguise. Parfait has a witch ally of hers, Delora, curse me to get me to perform good deeds to reform me, and I disappear from the palace. Two cycles ago, trying to bring balance, I broke my curse while courting my now husband, Waltz, and had Delora curse me again so Myth would believe me when I pretended to be cruel. I entered the palace, intending to play Alcaster and Myth against each other."

"How would that bring balance?" Alicula asks.

"I behaved in a manner like my mother," I tell her, "in order to save my family and nation from the traitors. I convinced Alcaster that it would be better for me to be on the throne, that I would rule in 'strength' just like my mother had. I seduced Myth, and got his promise that he would not force me to release my mother from the Tenebrarum in exchange for my marring my 'mother's apprentice.'"

My mother's eyes widen and her face darkens at this. "Obviously, my trust was misplaced, if he promised that," she hisses. "I should have killed him for his failures long ago."

"You do that, sometimes," I admit before continuing. "Anyway, Parfait set up the counter-coup for the night of the wedding, Waltz came to rescue me from Myth and my knight chopped off Myth's head while the two of them were distracted fighting each other, and I married Waltz. I became pregnant that night, and woke to find another cycle starting the next morning…and I still had my magic. I tricked Myth into confirming some general details about the cycling, I arranged this meeting to talk with the gods about it, and Chaos had someone tell me where my copy of the contract was."

"Are you certain you are not part Cedelian?" Regius asks me. "Those kinds of shenanigans are much more common in my cousin's court than your father's."

"…I should have killed that idiot instead of trusting him with something important," my mother spits. "And Delora. It sounds like she was a part of this too."

"And I am glad that you did not kill Delora," I say softly. "She's the closest thing I have to what I wish you would have been…." I have to stop talking again, gulping breath and moaning as the squeezing starts again.

"You are on your way to face judgement," Fulgur growls, "and all you can say is that you regret _not_ killing people? That you wish you had caused more pain, taken even more lives?"

"If that line is still unmet, this might not be my final fate…" my mother starts to retort, but then I cut her off as I can no longer hold myself to groans and cry out instead. And then she looks at me, concerned…but I know that it is not concern because she cares for me and does not want to see me in pain.

My mother is concerned because with every cry of pain, I am getting closer to meeting that line, and she to her doom. That is the one and only reason she cares that I am in pain.

When it stops and I am able to relax again, I glance over at her to see my mother watching me warily as she walks. And in spite of myself, I have to laugh at her. "Nothing has really changed, has it?" I ask her. "You were bound and determined to make me into an image of yourself, not considering that I was capable of finding a better way than you did."

"There _was_ no other way," she tries to tell me. "I was weak once, but that left once I allowed corruption to have me…and my feebleness vanished. I became strong."

"You fought it for a time," I say softly. "From what I have been told of you, you were once someone I would have liked to have known. But you turned your back on all of that, and became what you are now. This is how I must see you, how I will remember you in the years to come. Haughty, merciless, violent…. I can only regret that I never knew you as you once were."

"I did not intend for things to happen this way," she admits. "I though you would be corrupted easily, that you would see it as the strength it is. You were supposed to release me, and I would teach you the finer points of ruling a nation and crushing your enemies."

"You turned me into a husk!" I yell at her. "You had won the day, one cycle, and you wanted my magic to strengthen yourself. And all I had wanted was for you to release the man I loved."

Her eyebrows raise. "He certainly made a fool out of _you_ then."

I shake my head at her. "He told me not to do it, warned me. When I did, and I turned into a shell of what I was, he still remained…returning to serving you simply to remain near me. He loves me as you never did. And…and you had to know that with the conditions remaining unfulfilled, that another cycle would begin. You knew that I would remember you doing that to me, that it was something I would not forgive easily."

And her mouth clicks shut, but Regius answers for her. "But she thought it would corrupt you," he guesses. "That in the upcoming cycle…."

"I must have thought that she would take corruption," my mother bites, as if upset that the other witch is answering for her. "If that traitor stayed with her under even those conditions, he might fall to corruption himself if she did. I might not be alive to enjoy the fruits of my labor, but even that result would have satisfied me even if I had not been freed, and had died instead."

And the squeezing begins again, even stronger, and I find myself wailing in the pain of it. I also find that my wails echo my mental pain, as what I had supposed of my mother turns out to be accurate. _I am only a tool to her, she does not love me. How am I supposed to make peace with that? How can I stop the pain of it?_

I suppose that that cry was loud enough to get everyone's attention. I find myself being lowered to the ground, upon the white road, and Parfait starts to dig into her sack. She has me sit up a moment, to fold my skirts under my back to keep them out of the way, and places a towel under me instead. The men move away, taking my mother with me, but Parfait directs Alicula to remain and the orange-haired fairy pillows my head on her lap while I hold her hand.

After it stops, I am still gulping air. As I try to rest before it starts again, I consider my question again, trying to tackle my mental pain as my body tries to deal with my physical pain. _How can I make my peace with my mother, after everything she has done to me?_

The first obvious question to ask myself is 'why am I in pain?' And I find that I have a thousand answers that all boil down into one. I am in pain because my mother did not give me what I wanted of her, that I believe her in debt to me and I know that she will never pay that debt. As long as that debt remains, so will the pain.

I know her incapable of paying that debt. She is corrupted; she chose corruption, and thus it is impossible for her to pay it. What makes matters even more impossible, as if there are degrees of impossibility, is the fact that if things go well she will face her final judgement before the gods within hours. As soon as death separates us, there will be no more chance for interactions between us at all. But…but can I erase the debt on my end?

Can I forgive this…all of this…everything that she has ever done to me? Can I really just let that debt go?

I am still panting, waiting for the next contraction to start, as I consider this. If I do not, there will only be pain in the part of my heart she once occupied for as long as I live.

And I find that I do not have an answer for that question; at least, I do not have an answer yet. But the pain strikes again, making me temporarily abandon any philosophical considerations. When it finally stops again, I finally realize that my skirts are falling off of my knees. Parfait is there, warning me that she has to take a look to check me, and I can only whimper as I nod my head, happy for a brief moment that it is her doing this instead of Chevalier. There would be a certain discomfort in having a former lover doing such a thing. 

And I have come to realize something else. There is simply no dignified way to have a baby.

The covenants all state that we must not stray from the road, so on the road of a bustling city filled with celestial beings is where I must bear my child instead of ducking into one of the structures along the road. If I turn my head, I can see where the men have gone down the road a little with my mother still held by them, but I know that they can easily hear my every shriek.

Parfait and Alicula continue to tend me, my friend checking me periodically to see how close I am to being ready to push so I do not try to do so too early, and my ally holding my hand in hers and my head in her lap while she sooths back my sweaty hair from my eyes. My contractions are coming with greater frequency, lasting longer, and getting stronger; the time is growing closer.

And I know that we are not alone.

Luminous figures surround us, but there are so many that it is hard to distinguish their characteristics. I suppose that the living do not come here and give birth in the middle of the street often, so they are bound to be curious if nothing else.

After getting through another contraction, I am still breathing hard as I look up to see one of the luminous figures kneel down beside me. As she gets closer to me, I can see more of her features. She has dark hair, red eyes, and a face I find so familiar even though I have never seen her before. "You are Waltz's mother…aren't you?" I ask, and she nods, brushing my face with glowing fingertips. Soft warmth emanates from her touch though I feel no tactile sensation, but I am not really surprised at that. Her son has ever only offered me warmth, so I do not know why I would expect any less of her. I really should not be surprised to see her here.

"You fought for Waltz, because you were afraid that my mother would corrupt him," I say, and she nods. "She never did…she tried, but failed. And he grew into a wonderful man. I love him dearly. Without him…I would never have been able to escape my mother's influence…I would never have been able to escape her."

My mother-in-law smiles gratefully at me. I am happy that she is able to understand me, even if she cannot speak to me. I am certain that the spirits overheard that I had married Waltz and was delivering his child when we came in, and I am glad that the news reached her.

And everything starts squeezing again. "Not yet, Lucette," Parfait tells me. "You aren't ready quite yet." She looks up at my mother-in-law. "You have every reason to be proud of your son. He's saved so many people…Angielle itself, in fact."

And somehow her smile becomes even broader still as she practically radiates pride and joy. I can only assume that any mother would be ecstatic when given the news that her son that had been taken by a corrupt Bearer had caused her downfall instead of serving evil, saved the kingdom, and married the princess. If I had to guess, my mother-in-law does not even care that I am Hildyr's daughter so long as she knows that I love her son.

My moans get even louder as time goes on, and I want this to be over now! And I cry, knowing that if I can just fill up the last little bit on the gauge…everything will be alright. As much as I want this baby in my arms now, I might have to suffer for hours longer until he gets here.

Either way, there's not a bloody thing I can do about it. _How many times did I tell Waltz that I would do this?!_

I open my eyes and look my mother-in-law square in her eyes, for perhaps the first time angry with my husband after I get through another contraction. "And your son wants _six_ children! Six! I would have to do this _five_ more times!"

She puts a hand over her mouth, and I swear she is hiding a smile.

"Who am I fooling?" I sigh, asking no one in particular. "That man is so good to me, I wouldn't do anything but give him exactly what he asks me for."

Her hand comes down, and I can see her wearing a broad smile.

And from there, it only gets more intense. I have less time to rest between the contractions, which are only getting stronger. I keep thinking that it cannot get any worse, any more painful, but then it does. It seems like hours, it might actually be hours, before Parfait finally tells me, "You can push with your contractions now, Lucette."

And I almost cry in relief with that, thinking that this is almost over. But then I remember Chevalier telling Parfait that the pushing might last up to three hours before the baby is finally out.

I whimper, my concern with decorum now completely abandoned. After all, I am giving birth on the ground, in the middle of a street. Maybe women the world over give birth with as much pain, but at least most of the others have the comfort of beds and some privacy!

And someone that has delivered a baby at least _once_ to assist them.

Alicula fidgets as she tends me, occasionally switching which hand holds mine when I squeeze one too much while I use her lap as a pillow. But I know that she is trying to do what she can. Parfait moves with a calm assurance I am sure is only due to the fact that the gods promised that if I could get past the gates before he was born, he would live; therefore, there is no way she will kill the baby on accident.

I find that fact a little comforting myself.

So, I start pushing, taking the brief periods of time between to rest. And it hurts, it burns…and it only gets worse. I really do not know how long this goes on, maybe minutes maybe hours though it seems like an eternity, before Parfait tells me, "I can see his head. You are almost there, just a little more."

And as I try to push through the burning once more, I also feel burning on my arm before it goes cold. That is where I keep the knife strapped. _Why…? Could it really be…?_

And after a final cry of my own, I hear an infant's wail. I have Alicula help me sit up enough that I see my son for the first time, as Parfait ties off the cord that connects us with string, and rubs the white mucous and blood that covers him away with cloth as he continues to cry.

And I cannot take my eyes off of him any more than I can put into words how I feel, right here and now. All of the waiting, all of the worry…and right now he is here, and Parfait is putting him up to my chest so I can hold my newborn son.

And he is red and wrinkled, bald, his head misshapen from the birth as Chevalier warned me it would be, and as his eyes open for a second as he continues to mewl, I see a glint of red.

He could not possibly be more perfect. He has his father's eyes.

"Does anyone have something sharp to cut the cord?" I hear Parfait asking, looking into her bag. "I can't find…."

I startle. I need to see if the measure is met anyway. "Use my knife," I tell her, "and see if the measure is filled."

And I have to reluctantly hand my son to Alicula for a moment to pull the knife from its sheath on my arm, and hand it carefully to Parfait. She takes it, and with the upmost of care, uses it to cut the cord that fed my child while he grew and the blood makes the knife completely visible. I look at the line on the blade, and…. "It's met. It's…over," I whisper.

It is over. It is finally done. And I could not possibly be more relieved. I half turn towards where the men wait with my mother. "It is over Mother," I say loudly, somewhere between triumph and feeling as if I could weep. "You have lost your wager."

She is just close enough for me to see that she has gone white, but I turn from her immediately to look back at my son. Parfait hands me back the knife, which I return to its place as she wraps my son in a large piece of cloth to place at my breast. Remembering that Chevalier said that I would bleed less if the baby started to suckle, my friend hands me a piece of clean towel to provide me with a little privacy and shield my son's eyes while he tries to nurse. Then, we wait for the rest of the cord and more blood to be expelled. When it finally does, I can see a trail of blood as it meanders down the road towards the gate we had entered.

Of course. That prophecy is finally fulfilled, each part taking place in a separate cycle. The hidden snakes' blood on my white…I had worn both Myth's and Alcaster's blood upon my wedding white. My greatest enemy's blood on the white of power and sanctuary…my mother had bled out during the last cycle, when I had killed her on accident while she slept within the Tenebrarum. And my blood on the white of hallowed ground. This entire city is hallowed ground, and whatever this road is paved with is white.

I have proven myself stronger than my mother, and I am also acutely aware that I had what she did not to help me get through it. She never had her own Waltz…or the other people that helped me, that loved me.

And I realize that I have no right to judge her, to hold a debt against her. She is what I might have been if I had been without love…and I know that it is this realization that will allow me to leave here without her having any hold on me whatsoever. So long as I believe she owes me something, there can only be poison in the part of my heart she once occupied.

I find that I can only pity her. Only the gods are capable of judging her.

But that is why we are here.

…


	67. A Rendering of Judgement

**Chapter 67. A Rendering of Judgement**

After Parfait is finished cleaning both me and herself up as best she can, I am still allowed to rest for a time to try to recover. While the baby continues to suckle, I tell Parfait that my belly feels like it is cramping now…though not hurting anywhere near as bad as the contractions…and she assures me that Chevalier said that was normal. When my son stops sucking, I pull my bodice up, take him out from under the blanket, and look up to see that my mother-in-law now has a man with her. She is talking very excitedly to him in words I cannot hear, and tension is leaving his face as she continues to talk. As I look closer at him, I think I recognize my husband's ears and nose…but apparently Waltz got much more from his mother than from his father.

"Waltz and I are naming this one Genaro Cresswell Britton," I tell the man when his attention leaves my mother-in-law to look down at me. "You are my father-in-law, right?"

The man nods, kneeling down beside me. I turn the baby around so he can look at his grandparents, and his red eyes are open, observing the world around him curiously. The pair appear spellbound, gazing at him, transparent fingers stroking my son's face. I can only guess at how much they wish they could hold their new grandson.

"Are you about ready to move yet?" Veles calls from up ahead.

"A few more minutes!" Parfait calls back to him. "This is the only time they will ever see their grandson in perhaps a century!"

"How did they die?" Alicula asks quietly.

"Mother killed them when they refused to give Waltz to her as an apprentice," I answer, glancing at where their murderer waits. "He was ten at the time…and did not find out what had happened until much later."

And the fairy shivers. "She even killed other witches…people she was responsible for protecting?"

"While I ran…you hid," Parfait tells Alicula. "I never knew if your tactic was intentional, but at least Fulgur was able to keep the Hunts from happening in Brugantia by directing his witches at a danger the humans were having trouble protecting themselves from. You also had a king that published what the witches were doing to protect the people from the raiders, and ensured the humans knew of their successes. You could keep dancing around the forest floor because you weren't really needed." And for perhaps the first time, I sense envy in my friend's voice.

"I did ask Fulgur if he needed anything from me, and he said that he was handling things," she says quietly. "I trusted that he knew what he was doing, and then went along my way. He has always been better at solving problems than I. In no time, he had marshaled his witches along the coast and the raiders were being beaten at every turn."

Parfait sighs. "I trusted Hildyr when she said that she was 'handling matters' and she murdered the king and set herself up in his place."

"Those witches were lucky that Fulgur found a common enemy he could aim them at," I sigh, still watching my son's grandparents as they continue to coo at him, as I continue to coo at my baby myself.

Parfait nods. "And the level of unity within the witches themselves that allowed that kind of cooperation with their Bearer. Hildyr…had neither."

I look back up at my in-laws, knowing that my time with them will be brief. If anything needs to be said, it needs to be said now. "Waltz will ask if you two are happy here…if things are alright."

The pair look up from the baby to smile at me, and nod. I could swear that she is mouthing, 'We are happy now.'

Now that they know what happened to their son after their own deaths, that they will be with him again when his own life ends instead of him seeing corruption and being banished to the darkness. Now they can be truly happy, knowing that their son is not lost.

"We haven't been married for all that long," I admit. "Less than a year…but he is a wonderful husband, and I can only think that he will be a wonderful father as well. I try to be as good as I know how to him. A few nights ago, I told him that I wanted to make him the happiest man in the world…and he seemed to think that he already was."

At that, Waltz's father leans over to give me a kiss on the forehead.

"You know," Parfait tells me, edging into our discussion, "Waltz is probably sitting on pins and needles right now worrying about you and the baby."

And that startles me, and I nod. We really should be moving along. "I'm sorry that I never got the chance to get to know you," I tell my in-laws. "Waltz mentioned once that he wished that you could have been at our wedding, or even just met me. I'm glad that he got at least part of that wish."

They smile and nod, and my mother-in-law appears to be wiping a few tears from her eyes.

"If one of you wants to carry her, we can get going again!" Parfait yells at the men. "I'm worried that she'll pass out of she tries to walk that distance."

Parfait holds the baby while Alicula helps me to my now unsteady legs, but now I find myself being scooped up by Regius. "We decided to take turns," he tells me as Parfait places my baby back onto my chest for me to hold before we start along the road again. My in-laws walk beside us, still feasting their eyes on their grandson. "Between taking you and Hildyr along…carrying you is considered to be the easier duty."

I turn my head forward to see what he means, and I see my mother struggling against her bonds, trying to go back the way we came. "If you had to make yourself a queen," I say when we are near enough that she can hear me, "you could at least meet your fait with the dignity of one instead of trying to run like a common criminal."

"Walk," Fulgur tells her, "or we shall tie your legs as well, and carry you."

"I will _not_ be manhandled like…" she tries to snarl.

"I assume, then, that you are walking, _Your Majesty_?" Veles asks so obsequiously his tone drips with sarcasm.

If looks could kill, Veles would have been struck dead by the glare my mother gives him. But, then again, if looks could kill I would think that Veles would have been dead long before today. Instead of dignifying his comment with a verbal response, my mother straightens her back and begins to glide up the road slowly enough that I am sure that she expects her lack of speed is inconveniencing us. I simply shrug when Fulgur glances at me as Regius carries me at the end of our strange procession. If she was going fast instead of slow, I'm sure that Regius would have to work harder to keep up with everyone else, and this gives my in-laws a little more time to spend with their grandson anyway as they walk alongside me. And they seem to have as much trouble tearing their eyes off the babe as I do.

Still, I remember that I have something to ask Regius. "Do you remember anything about how you agreed to come here? Did anything…unusual happen?" I ask him, wondering if he has any insight into what even caused Chaos so much amusement.

"Not really…that I remember anyway," he tells me. "I…remember that there was a lovely woman that explained what you knew of the situation, at the time you sent her anyway, to me."

"Delora," I say, doubting that he is describing the hatchet-faced fairy that went along with them.

"The one with dark hair and wine-colored eyes?" he asks, and I nod. He thinks for a long minute before saying, "Is she here? I…think I remember wanting to see her again…she said that if I agreed to come here, that I was certain to see her again."

"She came with us," I say…and then a possibility occurs to me. _Did Delora and Regius…?_

I have seen stranger things happen.

The rest of the way is spent in relative silence, and we stop only briefly as the other two men take their turns to carry me. I am not sure how long we walk through the huge city, but little Genaro has apparently decided that he has had enough for now and closes his eyes to nap. Despite the fact that I am in a place told of in story and song, and have the chance to see what perhaps no currently living mortals have ever seen, my eyes remain glued to my son most of the time. All of my worry, all of my fear, and most of it will be over soon…with one exception.

I still need to alter the date of his birth. With him here in my arms, soft and warm with his chest rising and falling as he breathes, what I must do to him seems even more heartbreaking. I glance up at his grandparents for a brief moment before my eyes fall back to my son, deciding not to mention what I will have to do within their presence.

Eventually, the road widens into a large square before another set of shining gates, but these gates appeared to be made of liquid light rather than gemstones. There are more luminous beings all over the place, and for the first time since I got here I am able to distinguish smaller ones that dart about the adults in what looks like a large game of 'tag.'

"Children," I whisper, watching them.

Fulgur, who is now carrying me, nods. "The prescripts say that children that die arrive here as such, and are then raised into adulthood by their forbearers. If you had not won your son's life, he would have arrived here and likely would have been raised by the grandparents that are so keen on admiring him right now."

I look up at them, just as we arrive at the gates and Fulgur sets me carefully on my feet. "I hope you do not mind that I plan on keeping him, that I hopefully will arrive here again myself before he does."

Waltz's mother smiles, and shakes her head with her husband putting an arm around her waist to draw her to him for a hug. The gesture is easy enough for me to understand their meaning. They can wait, wanting their own son to be able to enjoy his baby as they enjoyed him years ago.

The liquid light of the gates withdraws directly in front of us, allowing us a way in to the very center of the city…into where the gods keep their thrones. And my party begins to walk through them, one by one.

"If I don't see you again on the way out…goodbye," I tell my in-laws. "I wish you well until we meet again."

They smile at me as I walk through the gates of light, and I can only call the room…if it can even be called such…we enter next the entire earth and sky.

The ceiling has a bright blue sky on one side, and a pitch black night sky lit with more stars than I have ever seen on the other…with both the sun and moon absent. With the exception of the gleaming white pathway that we are still on, the floor is a crystalline sea that rages under the night sky and is calm under the day with the pathway dividing the two. In the middle on the only true 'land' are two thrones. One appears as if made out of a lush, green mountain and wood, the other made of liquid gold that does not keep its form, even while decorated by gems that glow with a light all of their own.

And in these thrones are the gods themselves. They must be them…but for some reason my eyes slide over them even as I try to stare. But perhaps it is meant to be this way…perhaps I am not meant to be able to lay my eyes on them directly while still in my mortal form. Perhaps the images of Order and Chaos are too great for me to see and live through the experience at this point.

Before us, about halfway into the throne room along a widened portion of the white path, six round circles appear, three black and three white. And I know that they are meant for the Bearers. The gates of light re-solidify behind us, and the rope that tied my mother melts as if it were made of wax. Veles looks a little disappointed at this, but my mother stands as if frozen, as if she is still bound.

She has no where she can go, now. There is no means of escape, no matter what she does.

While she stays frozen, the rest of us continue on to our circles, the witches kneeling in the black, and the fairies in the white. I have to do so very carefully, both taking care to keep a good hold on my baby and getting down on both knees instead of one since I am certain that getting on only one would be painful. Of all of the others, only Parfait wobbles as I do. She must be nearing the end of her strength, and may need to be carried out of the city by one of the men as well.

"I have come that the terms of my mother's bargain might be fulfilled," I find myself saying. "I have released my mother into your custody, I have experienced the same amount of pain as she within the specified period of time, and I have avoided corruption. She is here for your judgement and sentencing, at your pleasure." My voice is not loud, but in my own ears it sounds as if everyone in the room should be able to hear me perfectly. "I also humbly ask that your promise that my son will retain his life be honored, that he will be granted the Healing he needs to survive…that I might have the grace promised me."

"YES, THAT PROMISE WILL BE HONORED, AND THE CYCLING HAS CEASED," comes a booming voice from being sitting upon the throne of gems…from Chaos. "BUT NOT ALL OF YOU HAVE TAKEN YOUR PLACES."

"HILDYR, COME," is commanded from the other throne, from Order. Even though the ropes that bound her have already dissipated, my mother stands still, pasty white, too terrified to move.

"YOU WERE COMMANDED TO COME FORWARD," comes again, this time from Chaos.

And my mother is drawn slowly but inexorably towards in front of where the rest of us kneel, and a drop of black that I had not noticed before turns, swirls, and grows in to a dark pit. There is screaming coming from the pit that lies only half a dozen paces from where I kneel, still holding my son, and I cannot see a bottom to it. Only a thin membrane covers the top, separating it from this plane of existence. And I know, we all know, that this is where my mother will spend her afterlife. The pretexts are vague concerning what exactly should be expected by one the gods throw into this pit instead of allowing to dwell within their city. Nothing is certain there except darkness and pain.

She resists, tries to dig her heels into the ground as if that would stop her advance, her face showing nothing but stark terror as she stares at the swirling darkness. My mother still ends up standing on the membrane above the pit, suspended above her doom by only a thread. She looks around, as if searching for some source of rescue…as if anything could rescue her from the gods. Finding no source of deliverance, I can only assume that she finds someone to blame as her eyes land on me.

"Lucette…you did this to me! Your own mother!" she shrieks.

I only feel numbness as Order says, "THAT'S ENOUGH, HILDYR. _YOU_ DID THIS TO YOU. AND YOUR ACTIONS WILL NOW BE WEIGHED."

"HAD YOU SHOWN YOUR OWN DAUGHTER LOVE, OR EVEN MERCY," Chaos says, "YOU MIGHT HAVE OBTAINED SOME, YOURSELF, INSTEAD OF BEING THROWN INTO THE DEPTHS YOU WILL SOON FIND YOURSELF IN. BUT YOUR EVERY ACTION CONCERNING EVEN HER WAS TO ADVANTAGE YOURSELF AT HER EXPENSE. REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID TO HER DURING HER TRIALS NOW, AS YOU WILL NOW BE JUDGED FOR IT, AS WELL AS YOUR OTHER DEEDS."

And even from where I stand, I can see my mother's eyes widen even further. The doors behind me open, and I turn and look to see scores, hundreds of people in yellow shining robes entering to stand at the sides of the room, walking on the crystalline seas to take their own places. And more keep coming.

"BEHOLD YOUR ACCUSERS," Order says, and my own eyes widen as I see them. Was she truly responsible for so many deaths? My in-laws pause a moment as they pass by me, stroke my son's face in a last gesture of 'goodbye,' before they go stand with the others. And I know…these are indeed my mother's victims.

"BUT WE ARE LACKING ONE THING," Chaos admits. "YOU STILL WEAR THE VESTMENTS OF MORTALITY. BUT NO LONGER."

With that statement, there is a dust cloud that envelops my mother, and she becomes as transparent as the other spirits around us…but she is not the same as them. While they wear shining yellow, she wears darkness like a void, and even that is tattered and torn. And her features changed as well, altering from beautiful to twisted…stained. I can still tell that it is her, but even looking at her I can tell that her soul is corrupted.

And then Order turns from her to address me. "YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO GIVE TESTIMONY ALONGSIDE HER OTHER ACCUSERS, BUT WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU WOULD RATHER LEAVE BEFORE THE TRIAL IS COMPLETED."

"If you allow me to," I say softly, my voice still somehow echoing in the room. "I shall return to the mortal realm rather than remain. I…want nothing more to do with her. I realize that the only way she will never have a hold on me again is to leave her behind…here with you and your justice. I want to be free of her."

"AND THAT IS WHY YOU WERE COMMANDED TO DO SO," Order tells me. "WE CHOSE TO GRANT YOU THAT FREEDOM, AND PROVIDED THE ONLY MEANS THAT WOULD HAVE WORKED."

" _SHE_ MAY HAVE THOUGHT THAT PART OF THE DEAL OF YOU BRINGING HER BEFORE US WAS IMPOSSIBLE, THAT SHE HAD MANAGED TO OUTSMART _ME_ IN HER DEAL," Chaos admits, "BUT WE ALWAYS KNEW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, AND HELPED YOU AS YOU NEEDED IT. IT WAS NO ACCIDENT THAT YOUR SON WAS GRANTED YOU THE FIRST TIME YOU WERE WITH YOUR HUSBAND, THE LAST NIGHT OF THAT CYCLE. EVEN THOUGH THE CONTRACT WAS IN YOUR ROOM AT THE MARCHEN THE ENTIRE TIME, IT WAS NO ACCIDENT THAT YOU DID NOT FIND IT UNTIL YOU WERE WITHIN GRASPING DISTANCE OF THE MEASURE YOU HAD TO MEET. OTHERWISE, YOU WOULD HAVE STAYED WITH THE LOVER YOU WERE WITH INSTEAD OF CONTINUING TO WALTZ…WHO WAS THE ONE YOU NEEDED. YOU WOULD HAVE FAILED WITHOUT HIM; NO ONE ELSE WAS CAPABLE OF HELPING YOU, LOVING YOU, IN THE WAY YOU NEEDED. IT WAS NO ACCIDENT IN THE MESSAGES YOU WERE GIVEN, INCLUDING THAT YOU SHOULD NOT SEEK RUNIA BEFORE LEAVING. HAD YOU DELAYED BUT A DAY MORE, NIEVA WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD WHEN YOU NEEDED HER."

And she would not have been there to get through to me when no one else had been able to. And my mouth drops open as I realize that although I had made my own choices, events had still been orchestrated by the gods. _They_ had brought me here no less than my own feet had, or the other Bearers that still stand around me.

"I…do not know an adequate way of thanking you," I finally say. "But…but even though I know now that you helped me through the fire…was it necessary for me to go through the entirety of it in the first place?" Was it really necessary for me to suffer as my mother had?

"IN ORDER TO HAVE BECOME WHO YOU ARE TODAY, YES IT WAS ALL NECESSARY," Order tells me. "YOU HAVE GROWN AS A WITCH, PRINCESS, WOMAN, AND PERSON. YOU ARE NOW CAPABLE OF ENSURING THAT THE WITCH HUNTS DO NOT REOCCUR IN THE NEAR CENTURIES, AND YOU WOULD NOT BE HAD YOU SUFFERED LESS. WE NEVER PROMISED MORTALS THAT THEIR LIVES WOULD BE EASY, BUT THAT IF THEY LIVED AS THEY OUGHT, THAT THEIR STRUGGLES WOULD BE COMPENSATED IN EITHER THEIR MORTAL LIVES OR THEIR ETERNAL ONES."

"NOW, WE DO INTEND TO GIVE YOU SOME OF THAT COMPENSATION NOW, TO MAKE THAT TASK LESS ONEROUS," Chaos tells me. "AS PAYMENT, YOU AND EVERY WITCH OF ANGIELLE THAT HAS RENDERED YOU SERVICE DURING ANY OF YOUR CYCLES WILL BE GIVEN THE KNOWLEDGE AND TALENT OF HEALING. DO TRY TO AVOID LETTING THAT TALENT DIE OUT AGAIN, AND ENSURE THE HEALERS ARE ALLOWED TIME FOR THEIR OWN FAMILIES SO MORE THAN ONE GENERATION WILL BENEFIT FROM THIS."

And I cannot help but gasp. They mean for me to be able to heal my son myself! And Instead of having no Healers at all, Angielle will have possibly a few dozens! Me, Waltz, Delora, Maeve, and all the witches that served as my ambassadors, guarded Myth, or helped retake the palace will now all be Healers! The children any of us bear after this will also be Healers! This explains what I had seen that day when Waltz was giving me a scrying lesson, when I had seen the witch that was impersonating a priest saving a young girl. And Witch Muddy Shoes, who has always been helpful….

"HER NAME IS VANESSA," Chaos tells me with poorly restrained laughter, and I smile weakly in turn. "REALLY…THAT YOU REMEMBER A COMPETENT AND HELPFUL SUBORDINATE BY STATE OF HER FOOTWEAR THE FIRST TIME YOU SAW HER…. WELL, LET'S JUST SAY THAT WATCHING YOU CAN BE VERY INTERESTING."

And at that point, it is all I can do to remain upright, holding my son as my head gets stuffed with information that makes Chevalier's notebook texts look like basic child's play…like an apprentice's first attempt at copying his master's craft. I know that they go on to offer additional rewards to the others with me. I miss what Veles, Alicula, and Fulgur are rewarded with while my head continues to spin, but when it stops I find that Parfait is being restored to her full strength and health.

"NO MORE SHALL YOU BE A SHADOW OF WHAT YOU WERE MEANT TO BE," Order declares to her. "YOU REPAIRED YOUR LUCIS THIS TIME, DEMONSTRATING THAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF LOVE AND JOY ONCE MORE; THAT YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR BURDEN ONCE MORE. YOU ARE RESTORED TO YOUR VIGOR, THAT YOU MIGHT FIND THE LIFE YOU WERE MEANT TO LIVE, THAT YOU MIGHT TURN YOUR BACK ON COWARDICE ONCE AND FOR ALL."

Tears stream down my friend's face as light envelopes her, and when it leaves, I can see the difference even without magic. Even as she kneels, there is a steadiness that was not there before, as she no longer finds the gesture taxing. "Thank you," she tells them, weeping. "I…I will try to make the most of this chance."

"YOU WILL," Chaos says in a tone I can only call unconcerned, as if he knows exactly what will come of it. And being a god, I can only assume that this is exactly what is going on. And then he turns his attention to the last Bearer left. "AND YOU REGIUS? YOU HAVE ALREADY REQUESTED THE FAVOR OF YOUR DESIRE."

"I…have?" Regius asks, slowly.

"YOU DO NOT REMEMBER DOING SO, OF COURSE," Order adds, "SINCE IT WAS NOT LINKED TIGHTLY ENOUGH WITH YOUR PROMISE TO LUCETTE TO REMEMBER THE DETAILS. YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH DELORA, WHO HAD BEEN LUCETTE'S EMISSARY TO YOU. YOU WISHED THAT IF YOU COULD BE GIVEN ANYTHING AT ALL, THAT THE TWO OF YOU WOULD BE GRANTED MEMORY OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU. SHE CONCURRED."

 _Wait…Delora_ had _fallen in love…with Regius!_ And I can see his eyes open wide in shock, in what I am certain is a mirror of my own expression. "What _did_ happen?" he asks quietly.

"BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU AND THE BRUGANTIAN PRINCE," Chaos laughs, "THERE HAS NOT BEEN A MORE ENTERTAINING INTERNATIONAL SCANDAL IN CENTURIES. IT REALLY WAS A DELIGHT TO WATCH. AFTER ALL, KINGS STRUT LIKE ROOSTERS ALL OF THE TIME, BUT CROWING LIKE ONE…."

And my mouth drops open. The Cedelian king is a witch, if not the most powerful one, so how did _that_ happen?

"IN SHORT, YOUR REQUEST IS GRANTED," Order declares. "THE BOTH OF YOU ARE GRANTED YOUR MEMORIES OF THE ENTIRE LAST CYCLE."

And Regius is very still for a moment, then he blinks and shakes his head. "I…thank you. Otherwise…neither of us would know what we were even missing."

And my heart seems to bleed for a moment. There are other men I loved once, but that do not know what they missed when I finally chose Waltz. I decided that it was better for them, to not know what they had lost, but in their own way each left a scar upon my own heart when I decided to move on. Our relationships changed once I committed to Waltz, and now I see them as friends…and Rod as a brother…but I know that I will never forget even if they do not remember or even suspect a thing.

And I wish them all joy. I wish them all the joy that I found myself…though a few of them have some growing to do before they are ready for marriages themselves. Rod especially needs to mature more, but he is only sixteen. He has time yet.

I find it gratifying myself that _someone_ is allowed a love they would have otherwise lost due to the time cycles, and I can only hope Delora finds joy. She deserves it, and Regius seems like a decent man. And Nieva…she could finally have the father she has always needed. _I should tell Regius about that…._

And I know that I will miss them both terribly. Given that Regius is a Bearer himself, if Delora agrees to marry him…she will be leaving Angielle.

With that business concluded, Chaos tells us, "YOU SHOULD ALSO KNOW THAT THE TEMPLES OF EACH CITY WILL BE JUDGED CONCERNING OUR MOST RECENT COMMAND TO ALLOW WITCHES AND FAIRIES BACK INTO FORMAL SERVICE. THIS IS OUR THIRD TIME TELLING THEM TO DO SO, AND THEIR LAST CHANCE BEFORE BEING JUDGED FOR DISOBEDIENCE. BOTH WITCHES AND FAIRIES ARE ALLOWED TO SERVE INFORMALLY, REMOVING ROBES TO PERFORM PUBLIC SERVICE, BUT THOSE THAT DO NEITHER WILL FACE CONSEQUENCES BY BECOMING HUMAN AGAIN. IF THEY DO NOT USE THEIR GIFTS FOR GOOD…THEY WILL LOSE THEM, THEIR POWER DIMINISHING UNTIL IT DISAPPEARS COMPLETELY. IF THEY GO TO THE TEMPLES AND THE PRIESTS REFUSE THEM ENTRY, THE PRIESTS WILL BE JUDGED FOR DISOBEDIENCE INSTEAD OF THE WITCHES OR FAIRIES SEEKING ENTRY."

Which means that Parfait has a lot of work to do, I realize, glancing at my friend. Relatively few of her fairies had been interested in joining the temple, and I have no idea how many of them provide services of sufficient significance to their communities. Apparently, she realizes this as I see her startle.

It's a good thing her vigor has been restored. She will need it.

On the other hand, I will have less work to do, as I realize that it is likely that the corrupted witches will find their power diminishing unless they repent and either join the temple or find something else useful to do. I won't have to chase them all down. It may take some work to get some of my witches out of hiding, though.

"Is there a time limit to that?" I hear Alicula ask, several spots to the right of me. And I realize that she will be unable to keep dancing around the forest floor, as that benefits no one. It occurs to me that she might end up starting a matchmaking service as a 'public service,' as I realize that there was no indication that Bearers would be exempt from this command.

"FIVE YEARS FROM YOUR ARRIVAL AT YOUR HOMES SHOULD BE MORE THAN SUFFICIENT FOR ALL OF YOU TO SPREAD THAT MESSAGE TO YOUR SUBORDINATES," Order tells us. "AND BEARERS AND TEMPLES OF OTHER NATIONS WILL BE GIVEN MESSAGES, CONCERNING THE SAME COMMANDS. NOT ALL WILL OBEY, BUT ALL WILL BE GIVEN INSTRUCTION AND WILL BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT THEY DO WITH IT."

"AND ONE LAST THING BEFORE YOU LEAVE, LUCETTE," Chaos says. "YOUR MOTHER WAS NOT OUT OF LINE WHEN SHE CURSED THAT ORDER PRIEST, AS HE WAS INSTRUMENTAL IN DISALLOWING THE WITCHES FROM REJOINING THE PRIESTHOOD WHEN YOUR MOTHER REQUESTED IT. TELL HIM THAT HE HAS A CHOICE OF REMAINING AS A DRAGON FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE AS PENANCE FOR HIS REFUSAL…OR BEING TURNED INTO A WITCH ALONG WITH HIS CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN. IF HE CHOOSES NEITHER OPTION WITHIN THREE DAYS OF YOU GIVING HIM HIS OPTIONS, HIS MIND WILL BECOME LIKE THAT OF A DRAGON AS WELL, AND HE WILL DIE AS A BEAST."

 _No wonder the priests considered my offer to return him to his form 'mercy' if they merely allowed the witch priest to remain. Whatever he chooses, I will still be 'taking care of' that dragon when I return, just like I said I would._ "As you command," I say.

"THE BEARERS ARE DISMISSED…EXCEPT YOU, HILDYR," Order says, and I glance quickly up at my mother who has been standing still as if she hopes she will be forgotten if no one sees her move. "THE REST OF US STILL HAVE THAT TRIAL TO CONDUCT. YOUR FATE IS ALREADY SEALED, BUT YOUR ACCUSERS HAVE THE RIGHT TO MAKE THEMSELVES HEARD BEFORE US."

And with that, we all incline our heads to the gods before we rise from our positions and make our way to the doors. Parfait helps me back up onto my feet, and I walk on still unsteady legs while I lean on her on our way out.

But now she has the strength for me to lean on her without either of us falling.

When we get out, Fulgur picks me up without saying a word, all of us remaining silent as we start down the path that leads us toward the gates. I can admit to myself that after all of my focus in getting here, I had not thought much about what a meeting with the gods would be like, or what it would entail. On the other hand, for some events in life, it might be better to enter into them without thinking that you know what to expect.

So, I sit still while I am carried, focusing my gaze on my baby. Finally, I decide to break the silence after one man hands me to another. "What _did_ happen during the last cycle?" I ask curiously, when Regius takes his turn to carry me as I cuddle my son while he rests. Apparently, being born was very hard work.

Regius gives me a half smile. "Well, Prince Klaude and Delora had introduced themselves as lovers…while my cousin the king and Annoxis, who is the 'official' Bearer, were at my estate…and I was attracted to Delora the moment I set eyes on her. I did not say anything at first due to the practicalities of the situation, but Delora and the fairy you sent with her wasted little time in revealing the entirety of the story. In her time explaining this to me, rumors began to spread that I was trying to 'steal' Prince Klaude's lover, and I admitted to him that Delora was unlike any woman I had ever known and everything I could have ever hoped for, and that I knew that she was not _his_ lover. She was a bit wary of starting something we could not finish, at least at first, but Prince Klaude decided that this could all be wonderful fun. Considering it was unlikely they would be able to return to Angielle in time to help with anything anyway, he…decided to play with the situation a bit."

And I cannot help but laugh. "Let me guess…he decided that if no one had to live with the consequences, he was going to create the largest international scandal he could."

And now Regius laughs. "When it got really interesting was when he started heavily hinting that he should have 'compensation' due to the fact that I had captured his lover's interest, and started making eyes at the king's favorite daughter."

"Meaning," Veles says from beside me, "the same princess that is the only one left with any significant magical power in the immediate royal family? The only princess the king cares about keeping in Cedel, in his royal court, so allowing her to marry a crown prince of another nation is out of the question?"

"Yes, that one," Regius admits.

And I start chuckling. "And I'm guessing that they could not do anything magical to Klaude without the risk of you reversing it?"

Regius grins at me. "Prince Klaude actually said that he would not make a fuss about me chasing Delora if I could arrange that none of my own witches could curse him…he seems to have a powerful aversion to even the thought of being cursed…and I was able to cast a spell that prevented that. My cousin the king tried putting a spell on Klaude without asking me, which is how it twisted into something worse and backfired on the king instead. It took me the better part of a day to set him back to rights again; had I not, he would have been gibbering and crowing like a madman throughout some very important state functions that evening."

And I cannot help but giggle. "He was _that_ shoddy at spell casting for you to need to take all day to undo the mess?"

"Annoxis and I had to chase him down twice," Regius admits wryly. "And erase the memories of everyone that had seen the king…taking leave of his senses. Annoxis was of the opinion that this was a lot of trouble to go through for the sake of a woman."

"I take it the king was not happy concerning the situation when he _was_ restored to his senses?" I ask.

"My relationship with that part of my family is…complicated," Regius admits. "In personal matters as witches, they serve me as their Bearer, but in public _I_ am the subject. They never exert their political power against me, in exchange for me not revealing them for the frauds they are. I normally just remain on my estate, and only come to the capitol a couple of times a year for important functions when my presence would be missed were I absent.

"At any rate," Regius continues, "instead of denying Prince Klaude's…offer…concerning the favored princess outright after that fiasco, the king tried throwing one of his less favored daughters at him. Apparently, this inspired a catfight of epic proportions, with all four of the king's daughters fighting over the prince. Two of them had been previously courting other powerful men that were rather unhappy with this turn of events…men influential enough that it would be expensive for even the king to offend them. One challenged the prince to a dual…."

"But Klaude is about as good as Veles!" I laugh.

"….and lost, rather badly," Regius finishes. "Fortunately, Klaude had insisted on practice swords, and his opponent could not refuse as it could start a war with Brugantia if Prince Klaude was killed, so that nobleman lived to be thoroughly humiliated. Perhaps fortunately, _that_ particular princess was so impressed that her suitor had tried to fight for her even if he _had_ lost, she took him back…leaving only three princesses in the catfight."

"Did the other suitor try the same thing?" I ask, curious.

"The other one," Regius deadpans, "is twice that princess's age, thrice her weight, the richest man in the kingdom not of royal blood…and he did no such thing. She desperately wants to get away from him, and is not particular in how she does it. I heard that her father has caught her trying to curse the man twice, but that could be awkward because Annoxis would be incapable of removing said curses. There's actually a good reason Annoxis spends so much time at my estate, and it's not for my crystals like everyone believes."

I nod. Regius might have been given that estate just as cover for the 'official' Tenebrarum Bearer to have a reason to be near him without excessively inconveniencing the real Bearer. "It is little wonder Chaos found the whole ordeal entertaining," I admit.

"Delora and I…did not exactly find our situation entertaining at the time," Regius tells me. "After all, what is the use of falling in love if neither of us would remember, if there was no future? It would be as if we had never met. Our only hope was a miracle…but I reminded her that I was going to see the gods anyway. If they decided to give rewards, they would know what we wanted.

"With this in mind," he continues, "she agreed to become my lover, to be courted by me, but she did not want to marry me at that time. Even though your Tenebrarum had protected your child, there was no guarantee that mine would do the same if we did conceive a child, and she did not want me to have to repair my Crystallum anyway. So in the meantime, we decided to have ourselves the most scandalous, salacious love affair possible."

I nod, grinning. In Cedel, the nobles are very prim, proper, and restrained…among polite company and during the daylight hours. Once the sun sets, it is quite common for them to patronize bawdy establishments, and whatever the proprietors of such places allow or disallow are the only restrictions there are. Mixing up how one behaves in which situation is what would make an affair salacious.

"I could see Delora having fun with that," I admit. "And I am glad that the reward you wished _was_ granted." And then I remember something that he should be told. If he wants Delora, his 'scandalous' love affair days are over. "You should know, though…Delora adopted a young girl, an orphan on the way here. If you marry Delora, you will find yourself a father immediately as well."

Regius starts for a moment, but he does not drop me, and continues to walk. "That…does not dissuade me. I know that Delora wanted another daughter, and apparently she has found one. I know that she would be a special child, if Delora chose her."

"She is," I say, and then proceed to describe Nieva and her circumstances. "So like Delora, after this, I can only assume that she will be a Healer as well, once she grows old enough to start using her magic."

"That…could be of benefit," Regius admits. " _I_ am not publically a witch, but it is barred in no way for me to be married to one. Healers are rare enough that it might be thought that I was performing a national service to bring one to Cedel by marrying her. No one will care that neither of them were born nobles, under those circumstances…though she will be expected to practice Healing arts often. We might have to spend a significant time away from the privacy of my estates."

"Just treat them well," I ask. "Delora is the closest thing I have to a maternal figure, though perhaps 'favorite aunt' might be a better description. She deserves the best of everything you can give her. And Nieva has lead a hard, heartbreaking life…and she still helped me find my way in my own gloom. Just…just treat her as if she were your own."

Regius nods. "If Delora agrees to marry me when we get out of here, I will do exactly that."

Veles, ever the skeptic, snorts from beside me. "Meaning that you are no more likely to allow that child to marry for love when she grows up than you would allow your own children to?"

Regius surprises me by smiling at the fairy. "It might interest you to know that Lady Alecia's husband dies falling from a second floor window of a burlesque theater about two months from now. He breaks his neck, and dies several hours later. I can easily arrange for Delora and I to not be anywhere in the vicinity when that occurs again…we were halfway across the city at the time it happened. If I remember correctly, Lady Alecia's father _did_ promise her that she could choose her second husband if she married who he had picked as her first in the event of the death of her first husband…assuming she was in no way responsible for that death. I believe that she got it in writing, and has that document framed and hanging up in her solicitor's office."

Veles freezes for a moment before he starts walking again, and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter," he says gruffly. "I cannot provide what she is accustom to, and I will not take a copper from that snake of a father she has."

"First of all," Regius answers, "I don't think that she really cares that much about trappings of wealth. Even if she did, she is her first husband's only legitimate heir, and could buy whatever she wanted anyway. It is something you should consider…and quickly. A widow that is both wealthy and attractive is bound to have suitors as soon as she removes her black mourning veil. I remember hearing that she ripped it off as soon as the priest was finished speaking the funeral rites, before she left the gravesite…that she even threw it in the hole after the coffin! Everyone knows that she never loved him, and men will be lining up to 'comfort her in her grief' before her first husband's body lies cold in the grave. If you still love her, you would do well to inform her of that speedily. While she is still cartwheeling out of the graveyard after the funeral strikes me as a good time."

Veles is silent for a long moment before he finally nods. "You are taking too long, carrying her. You are obviously tired, which means it is my turn."

Regius is still wearing a small grin as he hands me to his counterpart, who immediately starts walking much faster than Regius was. And now I think that I understand this misanthrope of a fairy a little better.

…

 _Author's note:_

 _I'd like to take this opportunity, so near the end of the story, to thank all of my reviewers! Those of you that are signed in for your reviews, I have been writing thanks and answering questions (as much as I can without giving away plot). To those of you that leave reviews anonymously or are using the same name each time, I still appreciate them! Even after the story is finished, I will be checking periodically to see if there are any new reviews to answer._

 _And Heyhey…I'm afraid that Waltz is still very anxiously awaiting Lucette's return to the mortal realm. He really has no idea that the birth went well. ;)_


	68. In the End

**Chapter 68. In the End**

I take a deep breath, and prepare myself to ask them one last favor before we get back through the gates to the mortal realm. "One last thing…please do not mention anything to anyone about the baby," I request.

"He was conceived within the cycles; thus you must alter the date of his birth?" Regius asks, and I nod.

"I…am just hoping that it was still dark enough that your companions didn't notice that I was pregnant when we rode in," I say, hoping the darkness and my cloak had hidden it. "Even if you trusted them with the rest of the story…well, things tend to spread and this kind of information could be easily misinterpreted."

Fulgur nods. "Our party only knows that we answered your request to meet with the gods. They assume that it concerns how best to correct what your witches continue to suffer after the Hunts and the war. We have not told them differently. I will hold my tongue concerning the babe."

"As will I," Alicula promises behind him.

"Being Cedelian," Regius admits, "I told my companions as much, knowing that they would automatically expect something else was going on as well. Eventually, I allowed them to 'discover' that Hildyr had not died in the war and had trapped herself in her Crystallum instead. This satisfied them, thinking that we were coming here with the intent of finishing her off, and if they saw your Tenebrarum glowing they would have noticed that it was already occupied."

"I don't care if they spread the rumor that we were 'disposing of' my mother," I say, "so long as they say nothing about my child." It is a rumor very close to the truth, and is wild enough that few will believe it. Those that do believe will only think highly of us; Hildyr's destruction benefits everyone.

"I will say nothing of him," Regius tells me. And then we all turn our heads to Veles, who is still walking fast and has refused to allow either of the other men a turn carrying me.

"My brother knows everything I do," the last fairy admits. "And I know that baby did not choose the manner of his birth; the gods did. You needed that baby to get out of your mess uncorrupted…but there was just that one unpleasant side effect. Deal with it as you see fit, neither my brother nor I will say anything about it. You came here wanting a way to reintegrate your witches, and the gods granted some of them Healing."

I nod in thanks, and sigh. _Side effect…as if I took a medicine to save my life, and it performed its purpose…but gave me an itchy nose._ I look down at little Genaro, who is still sleeping in my arms in spite of the motion being carried provides. And I realize that Ophelia was right, those months ago when she told me that as soon as my baby was in my arms, that I would want nothing more than to protect him for always…and then I would have to let him go bit by bit.

And I have to curse my baby to protect him.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It can wait a while longer…I can hold him a while longer. I still have to heal him when we get through the gates, and his father needs to be able to have his turn to hold him. I would not think of disallowing Waltz to see his son as he is; he needs the chance to interact with his baby. And…and it hurts to know that my husband cannot simply be the proudest father in Angielle immediately. I am sure that he would be, otherwise, under normal circumstances. But circumstances are anything but normal, at least around me.

When we finally get to the gates, Veles sets me down in front of my Tenebrarum before practically running into his own Crystallum. And he freezes there.

Of course. The rest of us have to get into ours, leaving together just as we came. Veles cannot get to see his soon-to-be merry widow until the rest of us allow it. And so I step into my Crystallum again, holding my son tight to me, the cooling sensation enveloping me again for a moment as I step through and out into the other side.

And there is a wail as my son wakes, crying perhaps at the sudden change of temperature before he is out in the warmth of the flat meadow outside the gates again. As my magic returns to me, I lay one hand on my son's chest while carefully supporting his head on the other. I find his heart with my magic, taking inventory of what is as I compare it to what it should be. Whatever shock caused him the distress he senses is enough for me to harness, and make minute—though very important—changes. I can clearly see where Runia's spell left off when the cycle restarted, how far it had gotten in healing his heart, and I smile in the direction of the gates.

I had not seen her there, but I am sure that is where she is. She was not a direct victim of my mother's to be called for her trial, and I can only assume that she is somewhere in that city chasing her grandchild around in play. Now that she has no one that needs her Healing, Runia can do exactly as she likes…which is how she had wanted to spend her retirement.

I look back down at my son, who has stopped crying as he looks at me with huge eyes. "You're alright now," I whisper to him. "You are going to be fine…and it is time you met your father."

"Leaving so soon…so quickly?" I hear Regius say, and I look up to see Veles practically running towards the open door where one of the gatekeepers waits for us.

"Your woman is just sitting around, waiting for you outside!" Veles yells back at him. "I might have to fight through several dozen money grubbing aristocrats!"

"In _two months!_ " Regius reminds him. "For the love of all that is holy, don't see her before her husband dies and make the man jealous enough to stay home when he should be falling out of that window!"

And that causes Veles to stop before getting through the door. "Point taken," he says, nodding to us as if the gesture suffices for a proper farewell. And then he walks through the door and disappears.

"I'm guessing he was never much for social graces?" I say, handing the baby to Parfait long enough to work my own Healing on me. And I almost sigh in relief, as what seems like a thousand small tears mend. When I am done, I feel stronger. It is no longer necessary for anyone to carry me.

Regius shakes his head. "No…and things are typically more…harmonious…if I just let him be. If I'm lucky, Alecia will mellow him out a little bit. Though…I can say that I find the prospect of getting back to the mortal world attractive as well."

And I smile as I take my baby back from Parfait. "The thought occurs to me that I need to get back to my husband, to let him know that things went as well as could be expected."

And I hear Fulgur laugh from behind me. "If he worries over you like I worried over my wife when she was having our children, we should go back before he turns into a nervous wreck."

"Assuming it's still light, we should probably break camp and leave before Lucette leaves the temple," Alicula considers. "It would be easier to hide the baby that way. And before I forget, did that nice young man you sent to me find himself successful?"

Parfait smiles as we all walk towards the door. "If you mean Garlan, he and Jurien have been courting as well as they can during our journey."

The orange-haired fairy smiles at my friend. "I was hoping that might happen."

"I just have to ask," Parfait says, turning to Regius. "Was…this Alecia's husband truly so terrible she really was cartwheeling out of the cemetery?"

Regius grimaces. "He was…is. To make a long story very short…the man did not make his fortune through either honest or particularly legal means. It would not surprise me if one of his _business_ partners is, as we speak, arranging for his death." He pauses for a moment. "Actually, marrying Veles is probably the most intelligent thing Alecia could do. It is likely people will be after the dead man's 'unrecorded' property, and might believe that his widow might hold the keys to it. Marrying a fairy or witch of power is probably the best…motivation…she could provide anyone to simply leave her alone."

I nod as the gatekeeper wordlessly holds the door open for us, and I walk through, finding myself once again in the marble hallways of the temple. On the surface anyway, it sounds like the woman needs Veles as much as he needs her. But once we get through the tall white gatekeeper that leads us through the hallways breaks his silence. "Your party awaits you within the temple, Lucette," he tells me. "My comrade has been sent out to tell the other camps to ready themselves for travel, so they will be ready to leave when the rest of you choose to exit the temple."

"Thank you," I tell the gatekeeper, happy that my husband awaits me in relative private. And the gatekeeper leads us through the hallways, and into the large entryway with the pillars. When we enter, in spite of the fact that I know that there are other people there, the only person I see is my husband.

As he sees me and the bundle I carry, Waltz's faces shows nothing but the most heartfelt relief as he rushes over to me and gathers the both of us into his arms. My husband seems utterly speechless as he does so, and I lean into him while being very careful not to squeeze the baby too much. When he relaxes his grip on me to look down at our infant, I tell my husband, "We're both ok. It went as well as we could have hoped."

Waltz nods, still speechless as he takes the baby from me when I proffer him. He handles the child gently, as if he is made of spun glass. Abruptly, the baby sneezes, opening his eyes again and father and son regard one another for the first time, wide-eyed and amazed. And a smile pulls at Waltz's lips, becoming broad as my husband grows almost teary-eyed. "Lucette…he…he has my…."

"Yes, he has your eyes, my love," I tell him while wearing my own smile. "Perfect ruby eyes." Just as red as the ruby in my wedding ring, that I picked out all of those months ago. Red is not just the color of blood; it is the reminder of the man in whom I have found my one true love…the man that gave me a beautiful son when he gave me himself.

Waltz gives a chuckle as he sinks to the floor in the absence of any chairs to sit on, still holding the baby. "I used to get teased so much over them as a child, and you consider them one of my attractions."

I join my husband on the floor, grateful that healing myself allows me to comfortably do so. "I simply have good taste," I tell my husband with a grin.

He finally tears his eyes away from the baby long enough to give me a kiss. "Things really went well?" he asks.

I nod. "Better. The childbirth gave me just enough pain to fill the measure on the knife, my mother's soul is being judged as we speak, any witch that served me is being given Healing, and…and I saw your parents. They were there, Waltz," I finish quietly.

And his face stills into an expression I can only call the deepest longing. "They…are they…?" Waltz seems unable to finish his question.

"Your mother sat with me while I was in labor," I tell him softly. "Your father got there a little later. I couldn't hear them, but they could understand me. I told them what happened, that Mother hadn't corrupted you, that you had helped me escape her, and that we are happily married. They seemed…quite relieved at the news. They seemed to be at peace, knowing that you had not fallen to corruption. They got to meet me and their grandson, and seemed quite happy that they had been able to do so."

Waltz nods, speechless for long moments, his eyes falling from me to look at our son again. "I…I can see that," he finally says. "If I had died trying to keep my son from a corrupted Bearer, my greatest anxiety in the afterlife would be worry over his fate. Even with everything we had to do to get here…I think it was worth it, to help Mum and Dad find that peace."

"And to get Healing back," I admit, knowing that the talent will help rebuild the witches as a group.

My husband gives me a wry grin. "Do you know how odd it was to have all of that just stuffed into my head? Delora looked quite out of it for even longer than I did."

I grin at him. "That's because Delora got…an additional surprise." And I look around for my second-favorite witch, finally noting the surroundings. Veles is gone, as I thought he would be, but all of my other companions save Garlan and Jurien…who I assume remained outside with the horses…are in the chamber. Klaude is in a corner of the room, taking with the Brugantian Bearers and Parfait, while Fritz and Chevalier stand together are watching something with barely restrained shock and amusement. My eyes follow their gaze to find where Delora stands, and she is being thoroughly kissed by Regius.

And my husband notices this as well. "I take it that her 'additional surprise' had something to do with whatever happened in the last cycle?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"It did," I admit as I hear soft footfalls behind me, and I turn my head to see Nieva standing there, watching the unfolding scene with wide eyes while she still clutches the doll Waltz made for her.

"Princess?" she asks softly. "That man kissing my mother…. Who is he? Is he in love with her?"

"His name is Regius," I tell the child, "and yes, he is in love with your mother."

"Does…does he want a little girl too?" she asks, uncertain, as if she thinks what might be happening is too good to be true.

And I have to smile at the child. She has seen so much pain in her life, and now it is finally time that she can experience joy as well. "He said that if your mother agrees to marry him, that that he would treat you just as if you were his own daughter. I think he is asking her if she will marry him now," I add, noting that Regius has stopped kissing Delora for a moment, and appears to be talking with her.

And Nieva looks stunned, her shock turning into a wonderful realization. "Then…then if Mother says 'yes,' does that mean that I get a father _too_?"

And my smile only grows broader as I answer her. "Yes, Nieva. That's exactly what it means."

"MOMMA! TELL HIM YES!" she practically cries as Regius takes a knee before Delora, assuming the traditional pose for proposals.

The both of them startle, and turn toward Nieva looking as if they are struggling not to laugh. "Sweetie…I have to finishing letting him ask first, and he wants to do this properly!" Delora calls back to her daughter.

"Oh…ok then!" Nieva replies, practically hopping on one leg then the other while she waits in the periphery for Regius to finish his proposal. It is only when Delora nods, saying words we cannot hear at this distance, and Regius rises to kiss her again that Nieva runs to them to be introduced to her new father. And the child bursts into happy tears as Regius scoops her up into a hug.

"Well, I didn't expect that," Klaude admits to me a few minutes later, when he has come to bid me goodbye.

"You had a lot of fun with that scandal," I tell him. "Your host 'captured' your 'lover's' interest while the king was there. You started making eyes at the one princess the king would not let you have, and when the king tried to curse you it backfired on him and it took Regius an entire day to make him stop crowing like a rooster and erase the memories of everyone that had seen him doing it. The king tried throwing a different princess at you, all four of them started fighting over you, and you ended up humiliating one of their suitors in a duel while Delora and Regius enjoyed having a deliciously scandalous love affair."

Klaude sighs deeply. "All of that excitement, and I cannot remember any of it."

I shrug. "If you visit Delora sometime, I'm sure she will tell you all about it."

"I need to go back home for a while before I do anything else," Klaude tells me. "I'm leaving with the Brugantian Bearers nearly immediately, but I wanted to tell you goodbye first. And congratulations…and thank you."

I nod. "Just don't say anything about the baby."

Klaude nods. "Of course," he says, and looks at the child who is now sleeping in his father's arms. "He…is a beautiful child. I wish you all nothing but joy. You deserve it."

I smile at my former lover, the reason I had picked up a sword. "And I wish you nothing but joy as well. Take care in your actions…and please allow someone close enough to actually love you. It would do you a lot of good, to be in love yourself…with someone other than yourself."

The prince smiles at me. "With you as an example, I am sure that I will not be able to help doing exactly that. Though…I might try to do it in a slightly less dramatic fashion. I know when I am beaten; topping the events of your first wedding is hopeless."

I smile at him as I nod. "I don't know…that international scandal you cannot remember causing comes close."

He sighs and shakes his head. "I _wish_ I could remember that. I'll simply have to make a trip to Cedel and see Delora sometime. And I wouldn't mind being assigned to a diplomatic mission to Angielle every now and then to see the rest of you."

"You will always be welcome in the palace, and the Marchen as well, I am sure," I tell him.

"We won't even tease you about your dresses…much," Waltz adds with a small smile of his own.

After a final round of 'goodbye,' Klaude leaves with Alicula and Fulgur out of the doors into the wide world.

"This is not how I expected this day to turn out," Delora admits to me when she has come over to take her own turn in holding the baby. "I'm just minding my business, waiting on you and Parfait to get back, and all of a sudden my head gets stuffed with medical knowledge only to be followed by the complete events of the last cycle and a wonderful man…."

Our eyes trail over to where Regius is sitting on his heels, talking to Nieva who still seems quite excited. "I've known him for less than a day," I admit, "and I cannot help but think highly of him."

"You've developed good judgement," Delora tells me. "There's so much more to him than appears on the surface. The rest of the nobles think him something of a recluse that prefers to remain on his estates, but the truth of it is that he's been marshaling the witches employed in government services for years. He keeps track of what officials accept bribes or pervert justice by using other means, for example, and has them removed by catching them in their own webs."

"That makes sense," I admit, thinking that this is probably how he knows the current husband of Veles' soon-to-be merry widow. "I hope that you and Nieva will be happy with him. When do you plan to marry?"

"At the first town we come to," Delora admits. "We would both prefer a small wedding, something for just ourselves before this gets swept into the public eye."

"I can understand that," Waltz admits from beside me. "Are you worried about how Nieva will adjust to this?"

"Some," Delora sighs. "Fortunately, she is an intelligent child. She will adjust to her new circumstances. And I have already told her not to mention the baby until I do. She seems thrilled at having a father for the first time."

"She deserves to have one," I say, happy that she can finally be given what she has been denied her entire life…a father that loves her. And I am glad that she will be able to grow up, secure in the knowledge that she is loved. It was something I had not had, myself, when I was a child. And then I remember something else. "Before you leave…thank you for cursing me. I don't think that I've ever expressed my gratitude to you for helping me properly." She always told me that I would thank her one day, during the cycles she cursed me, but I hadn't done so yet.

Delora smiles at me. "You are welcome. And thank you for sending me on a mission with an annoying, flirtatious prince that thinks the day incomplete without drama. It was nearly as annoying as I'm sure that curse was, and it turned out much better than I expected."

It is bittersweet as I hug her goodbye, tell her that she is free to visit me as she likes, before Delora goes to bid Parfait goodbye. I also hug Nieva before she goes, thanking her for being there, for being kind when I needed it. She seems sad to have to tell the rest of us goodbye, even as she is happy to get a new home with a new father.

"He says that I can have an entire room to myself to sleep in when we get to my new home," she tells me, as if this surprises her. "An _entire_ room!"

I chuckle, and then abruptly stop when I remember that she had been living in a farmhouse that had one large room, and a loft. And she had no roof over her head at all as we traveled. She is accustomed to hardship and poverty. "You will also get tutors to teach you things, too," I tell her. "You will have to work hard to learn things."

Nieva nods. "But I like learning things," she says, still hugging her doll. And I suspect those same tutors and nannies will only allow her to retain the somewhat crude doll when they are told that Prince Waltz had made it for her, when we were traveling together.

There will be a lot of changes in her life, but with Delora and Regius for parents, I am sure she will be fine. It is not long before Delora collects her daughter, and she leaves after finishing her goodbyes to all of us.

Finally, only Fritz, Chevalier, Waltz, Parfait, the baby and I remain. And we wait a little while, for Regius' party to leave. As I wait, I begin to dread leaving this sanctuary that separates me from the rest of the world. After I leave here….

And my heart begins to break, as I look down at my son, who is once again sleeping in my arms. My husband, sensing my thoughts, comes from behind to put his arms around us both as we both gaze down at our sleeping baby.

And I am not sure if I can do it. I will not ask my husband to curse the baby, so I have no choice but to do it myself, but still….

"Lucette," comes from behind me, and I startle and look around to see the gatekeeper in black addressing me.

"It is time for us to go?" I ask, wondering if I am being dismissed.

He nods. "More importantly, it is time for you to arrive. When you leave, a portal will be opened directly to Angielle. You will appear behind the Marchen, and can make your way to the palace from there. You are advised to refrain from performing additional spells on your son before showing him to your father."

I nod, and close my eyes and sigh. The gods have decided that I need to return to Angielle immediately. I will be waiting not six months to reveal little Genaro to the rest of the world, but a year. It will have to wait until I bear another child.

And I cannot help but wonder what trouble the rest of my family has gotten into, or are getting into, that this is required! I took care of Alcaster and Myth, put trustworthy men in their places, and _still_ something else has happened!

"So be it," I say sadly. And then I wonder why it is important that my father see his grandson before he is cursed.

It doesn't matter. If the gods say it is important, I will believe them. After all, that worked out well when I obeyed their instructions to find Nieva, and avoid Runia.

Still, it is with a heavy heart that I leave with the rest of my party out the doors and I give Jurien and Garlan a few minutes to coo over the baby before I climb back up into the wagon seat, and everyone mounts their horses. It is still light, sunset just beginning, as I look over the now vacated camping sites in the mountain pass. When we start to move, in the road before us a light swirls and turns burning away what was in front of us so we can peer into a familiar clearing in a wooded area. Fritz is the first through, being the first to convince his horse that portals are nothing to be concerned about, and eventually the rest of us follow. Once Garlan and Jurien come through last, the portal vanishes.

And it is night, not sunset, when I look around the clearing where we once held our sword practices and magic lessons. "Did you want to stay in the Marchen overnight?" Parfait asks me, climbing down from her place beside me.

"No…I want to go find out what is going on tonight," I tell her, allowing my husband to help me back off the wagon, careful to hold my son as he does so. "I'm not sleeping until I speak with Father, and find out what is going on."

"Do you want me to come with you?" is the fairy's next question, but again I shake my head.

"If it is anything of importance," I tell her, "I'm sure your cousin could tell you and you could just come over then. But I was told to show my son to my father before…taking other actions…so that is what I will do." I look at the wagon that has been my home for these last few months, and open the door and allow the Tenebrarum to follow me as I walk further from the wagon. "There is still gold that Delora meant for our return journey," I tell her. "Use it to settle what debts you can, and split the rest of it among yourselves. I'll be in communication with you soon. You can keep Garlan and Jurien here until tomorrow when I know how things stand, and I'll take Fritz with me."

Parfait nods. "Very well," she says. "I'll see you soon."

I turn around when I realize that Waltz is not standing beside me where I thought he was, only to find him coming out of the wagon holding the puppet, which he tucks in the blanket our son is wrapped in. Fritz stands beside him, looking a little nervous himself.

Of course. If there is a reason that I had to come back now, he might have a reason to worry for my sister. None of us know what to expect.

I take a deep breath, and open a portal to my mother's old laboratory…to my laboratory. And that is where I leave my Crystallum, glowing and completely free of cracks, and we use the secret passages to find my father's parlor. After using my second sight to ensure that it is empty, we open the hidden door and walk into the room.

To my surprise, all of the lights are still lit. In spite of the fact that it is dark outside, it must not be that late. The lamps would not still be lit unless my father was still expected to return to his quarters, and had not done so yet. And then I get a second surprise. A mound of presents are stacked on and around the card table.

"Lucette…I'm afraid that I've lost track of the days," Waltz tells me slowly.

"It might be Ophelia's birthday," I admit. "I...am fairly certain that it occurs when I am usually still cursed, though I cannot remember the exact date." I just remember that we held a quite celebration during the last cycle…or that one had been planned, anyway. But then something else had happened, and Ophelia had not felt like celebrating. But I cannot remember the date.

Fritz strides over to the table, and starts looking over the packages. He looks at one, he looks at several, his smile growing as he sees one and then another. "Put the baby down for a moment," he says, now grinning quite broadly. "I have a surprise for you."

I blink. He would not be looking this happy if it was Ophelia's birthday…. I exchange a quick glance with my husband, and carefully put the sleeping baby on the couch before rushing over to the card table where Fritz is holding out an elegant tag from one of the presents for me to see. As I look at it, my eyes widen, and my legs go numb as I lean back, practically falling into my husband. Those presents are not addressed to Ophelia…they are addressed, with the wish of a joyous forty-first birthday, to….

"Lucette…" Waltz asks quietly, as if not quite believing his eyes as he reads the same note. " _When_ is your father's birthday?"

"It doesn't occur within the cycles," I admit. "It's two months before the cycles start."

"His fortieth birthday was, making his forty-first birthday ten months after the cycles start," Fritz tells me, still wearing that broad smile. "In other words, a perfectly acceptable time to be showing up at the palace with a newborn baby…ten months after your wedding."

"Lucette, we won't have to…" Waltz breathes. "Thank the gods! We can just…that portal was through _time_ and distance!"

And I let out a sob, realizing that I do _not_ have to curse my baby! I could go out there, right now, and present my father with his grandson in front of whatever dinner party is being thrown in his honor if I wished.

Or I could if I did not look as if I had just been through the ordeal of a lifetime. I use a quick spell to clean my clothes, to clean all of our clothes, and then rush to pull a bell to summon a servant. I have only a few moments to go back to the couch to pick up my son again before a rather confused maid comes through the door, and starts at the sight of us as she curtsies.

"Your Highness…Highnesses…you've returned," she says, surprised in a rather deep curtsy. "Forgive me, but you were not expected."

"I know," I say. "Please tell my father that we returned, and that I have a birthday present for him too."

As if on cue, the baby begins to mewl, and the maid's eyes widen even further as she notices him in my arms. "Yes, Your Highness…and congratulations!" she says, dropping another curtsey as she rushes out of the room.

I do not anticipate having to wait long, maids always run very fast to deliver favorable news, and shortly I see my father, stepmother, and siblings coming through the doors into the parlor. My father enfolds me in his arms first, welcoming me back to him as I introduce him to his grandson. Mum is next, and then Rod. As I hand the baby over to my father for him to hold, I tell him, "And Father…you are to hold your grandson for as long as you wish, whenever you wish. You will never be barred from the nursery…you will not have to dread the coming of the dawn." I look over at Mum who is hovering, just itching to get her hands on the baby as soon as my father is done. "You may have to stand in line, but that's it."

And my father's gaze comes up from his grandson to me, his expression a strange mixture of grief, joy, and wonder. "Lucette…how did you know…? I never told you about that…or did I?"

And I have to smile at him. "Father, just in case you did not realize it…I am a witch, and I will be doing odd things occasionally. I am also forever your daughter."

He passes the baby to Ophelia to take me in his arms, holding me tightly. "I love you, Lucette. You are my daughter, and I couldn't care less that you are a witch as well."

When my father lets me go, I hear my brother say, "Are we just ignoring that?"

I turn my head to follow his gaze, and see why Emelaigne has not held the baby yet. It is because she is pinned up against the wall, getting thoroughly kissed by Fritz.

I hear my husband chuckle. "Yes, yes I think we _are_ ignoring that."

"Definitely," I agree, and my brother's mouth drops open. "This is the part where you ignore it too, and go back to admiring the baby to give them a little privacy."

And Rod turns his wide eyes to our father, as if hoping for a little sanity, but he just smiles too. "It occurs to me," Father says pointing to the baby that his wife still holds, "that I might want more of those. If I let that continue, maybe I'll get another."

…..

"Were you this nervous before your wedding…the first one, I mean?" Emelaigne asks me.

The maids and hairdressers have been dismissed, having finished with their work, and my sister stands in a dress of white lace while her mother and I finish the last minute details. Actually, we are just fussing with a few pieces of lace that need straightening so they lie flat, but I have never seen Emelaigne look more beautiful.

"I was absolutely terrified. Varg said that he thought I looked like death itself," I admit to Emelaigne's question, and my sister blinks in surprise before I continue. "If you remember, I was not sure at the time if I was going to be marrying Waltz or Myth…the love of my life or someone that needed to be killed."

While I was gone, the rest of my family gathered to the parlor every evening they had free, and Mum read from the journal that I gave her. They had had enough time to go through the entirety several times, and are nearly as familiar with the events of those cycles as I am. My father, in particular, was not very happy about how much I had hidden from him, but at least he was able to understand my reasoning behind it all. He accepts that getting the cycles to stop took priority over other matters, and it helps that I did tell him about it at my first available opportunity.

At any rate, when I came home, my family was better able to know me and understand me. The ice princess had been replaced with someone that loved them, and wanted to be loved by them, and they all had accepted that by the time we returned on my father's birthday. They really had been at a dinner party held in his honor when the maid appeared, announcing that Waltz and I had returned…with a newborn infant. Under those circumstances, none of his guests seemed to mind that their host had left the table rather suddenly.

Officially, my son shares his grandfather's birthday…and Waltz and I do not even remember the actual date of his birth. My father was relieved that things had gone as well as they had, and that the portal granted us had kept us from needing to curse the baby. When Tuttle had shown up the day after we came to complete the paperwork on the new prince's arrival, I had told him the truth of the situation.

The official document states that my son had been born the morning previous to the filing of the report, that I had given birth in the middle of a road, and that I had been attended by the Lucis Bearer rather than my personal physician due to logistical matters preventing him from getting there for the birth.

In a way, all of that is actually true.

Emelaigne gulps hard. "Fortunately, it worked out that you married Waltz."

I nod. "It 'worked out' because Fritz jumped out from behind a curtain and chopped Myth's head off. Actions, and the lack thereof, cause most things to happen." And then I smile at her. "And now, I am helping for the preparations for _his_ wedding. All things considered, I am very happy to return the favor."

We have been back in Angielle for about six or seven months, and during that time Fritz had courted and proposed to my sister. They seem genuinely happy together, and I am pleased for the both of them. They more than deserve their joy.

"So is your husband," Mum remarks. "He has spent most of the last few days with Fritz. He even skipped making his rounds at the temple yesterday."

Waltz and I, and every other witch with position in 'community services' rather than black robes, still make rounds in the temple to heal the sick and injured. There are perhaps two dozen Healers altogether, with most of us in black robes, and other witches are being accepted into the temple every day. The priests heeded their instructions, and even the witches that lack Healing abilities now work alongside the human priests in other areas. I was very clear with the high priests of the direct instructions from Chaos regarding the treatment of Healers, that they not be overworked and unable to make or maintain their own families. The Healers have set hours that they work, and are off in order to court or tend to the families they already have. It has become an expectation that the Healers have children, or more children, in order to pass on their talent to the next generation…that the gift must not be neglected. The Healers are further augmented by Chevalier in black robes and Annice in white who treat ills not serious enough to require the services of the witches. Chevalier is responsible for assessing those that present themselves to the temple asking for healing, and assigns them priority level for how quickly they need to be seen, and treats the minor cases with Annice's assistance as he trains her to become a physician herself. I have seen them several times in the temple, and they seem happy with their work. Chevalier tells me that it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, as he feels free to practice medicine without considerations concerning money…and plenty of backup that can help the patients that he cannot.

Scars from the Great War still linger, and many humans are hesitant to go to the temple to ask for healing until they are near death's door…or they were at first. After these months, they are starting to realize that the witches will do nothing but perform their Healing or other services, the only payment expected is whatever they chose to give the temple. According to the high priest, no other profession brings more income into the temple than their new Healers as more and more patients start to show up. This allows additional charity projects, and everyone benefits.

Not all of the human priests are particularly happy about the changes, but most seem to be adjusting. One, in particular, found himself unable to adjust. The dragon in the basement had thrown a fit when I had given him his choices, to the point that I had to restrain him to keep him from causing the temple structure damage. He had refused to reconcile with the witches by becoming one, and either did not believe or want to believe that he deserved penance for his actions.

Three days later, the dragon had changed from placid to violent, no longer behaving like a human or attempting to communicate with the priests that had tended him for years…his former friends. It had become necessary to put him, now a dangerous animal, down. In a way, he reminds me of my mother. She had been unable to accept her guilt too, remaining unrepentant until the end, and had suffered the consequences.

Simply because you refuse to believe the truth of a situation does not make it disappear. Justice will still, eventually, be met.

Fairies are entering the temple as well as witches, though not as many of them at the moment. It is something Parfait is still working on and it is keeping her fairly busy, putting her newly restored strength to work. Still, fairies are obeying as well…though with less eagerness than the witches who see black robes as deliverance from danger. I had Father put out a proclamation in every city, town, and village concerning what was now expected of the witches and fairies, and I have messengers that are sent out to find the ones that have cut themselves off from civilization completely. I do not want anyone I am responsible for to suffer loss because I was ineffective in carrying out my instructions.

"There were others available to take care of the patients, and Fritz…had some questions. Waltz always puts family first," I muse. My soon-to-be former knight, soon-to-be brother-in-law had some questions regarding marriage and married life…and Waltz is really the best choice of the friends he has to answer those questions given that Fritz does not have a father-figure to ask. And Emelaigne has asked her mother and I some of those same questions, especially in the last week or so. Marriage is an entirely new phase of life. I rather wish that I had been able to ask someone some of those same questions myself, but there were…circumstances.

"In other words, he is nervous too?" my sister asks.

I smile at her. "He is nervous…and eager to please you."

Emelaigne turns red as a strawberry at that remark. While I chuckle softly at her, Mum asks, "Are you unsure if you are ready for that dear?"

Still red, my sister slowly shakes her head. "No…no, this is what I want." She looks at her feet for a moment before continuing. "I waited for months after I met him, not knowing if I dare speak my mind to him. And when everything changed, I learned that he felt nothing romantic for me at that time, but it was possible he could later. So…I decided to wait longer. After he left, I waited another ten months for him to return with Lucette to hear his answer. And then all of a sudden he was back, asking only if I still wanted him…and 'yes' was the only thing I was able to get out of my mouth before he kissed me." Her head comes up to look at us both again. "After all of that waiting…I know that I could have asked for a longer courtship or engagement…but I didn't want to wait any longer."

"And this was the soonest the palace could be prepared for a grand royal wedding," I note.

"Especially since everyone was denied the chance to see and be seen at yours, Lucette," my stepmother notes wryly.

Apparently my lack of a large, fashionable wedding had been a huge disappointment to Angielle's social scene. I simply shrug at my stepmother's comment. "I do not seem to fit any mold well," I admit, and the other two women laugh.

And I know that I do not. After what I did to 'save Angielle from the traitors,' my old reputation was debunked. Everyone considered me politically savvy beyond my years to have successfully thwarted an attempt on my father's throne, though some are divided as to whether I did so because I loved my father, or because I simply did not want to be Myth's or Alcaster's puppet. And then there is the fact that I have been dispelling curses. I am still working on how to get rid of the Fairytale Curse itself, but I go over to the Marchen and get rid of the 'dark' curses several times a week, and give the rest further direction in whatever lesson they need to learn to rid themselves of their own curses. I have caught up with the worse of the corrupted witches, cursing those that needed it so they would not hurt anyone before their time to join the temple ran out and their power faded, so there is very little cursing going on except for a trickle of 'instructional' curses. And now the populace of Angielle is learning that they need not fear being cursed unless they do something to earn it.

"At any rate," I decide, "the people that mattered most to me were at my wedding…at least one of my weddings. Though I think that Father and Rod were the only ones that made it to all three."

My sister nods. "I was a little worried that Rod wouldn't get back in time."

"He wouldn't miss your wedding for the world, and you know it," Mum says with a smile.

"Not on purpose…but sometimes things happen," Emelaigne admits. "After Lucette's ordeal, there is very little I consider impossible now."

Two months after returning to Brugantia, Klaude had gotten a 'wonderful idea' and had taken Rod with him to Cedel. It is not uncommon for young royals to visit each other, and see there might be any interest between them. Father had only agreed after I told him that Delora would make a good chaperone, and Klaude had promised not to cause the scene he had last time when he was there. They had returned not only with a letter from Delora, who tells me that she and her new family are doing well and that Veles had found and married his merry widow, but with one of the Cedelian princesses on Rod's arm.

According to Delora, this is the same girl that had been trying to get away from her suitor however she could, and had gone straight for my brother while her three sisters were busy cooing over Klaude. Rod had been uncertain at first if it had been because she genuinely liked him, or if she had just decided her odds were better with him than with Klaude, but fortunately she had been forthright with Rod about her predicament from the start. Rod had appreciated her candor, and apparently several other of her personality qualities as well, and had asked her father for his permission to court her.

Apparently international relations took precedence over internal politics, and a courtship schedule had been drawn up for the pair. The Cedelian king had been a little hesitant at first…until Rod told him that he knew the princess shared some 'rare qualities' with Waltz and I, and thus would fit in very well with our family. According to Delora, the king had quickly confirmed with Regius that the Bearers knew each other, and the princess had been packed for travel to Angielle. Their engagement is not 'official' yet, but I think it will be official soon.

Klaude had returned from the trip without prospective bride, but he had confessed to me that he had really enjoyed 'encouraging' Rod. He remained in the palace to attend Fritz's wedding, both because he considers Fritz a friend after the trip and he had wanted to attend Garlan and Jurien's wedding that will be taking place in a few days as well, and I do not doubt that he will find someone eventually. I suppose that he is having trouble making a decision when he has so many possibilities, but at least he is no longer chasing girls simply for the thrill of it. He takes considerably more care with the hearts and dreams of others, and is careful not to imply what he does not intend to follow through on.

"I do think the word 'impossible' simply means that no one can remember the last time it happened," I admit.

There is a knock on the door, and Emelaigne practically jumps. "Your Majesty, Your Highnesses? It is nearly time for everyone to take their places," a maid says through the doors.

"We are coming," I call back.

Mum turns to Emelaigne, gently brushing her cheek instead of enfolding her in a hug, careful of both the dress and her daughter's makeup. "You have no reason to be nervous, Sweetheart. You are the most beautiful bride there ever was, and you have a wonderful groom awaiting you. I am sure that you will find nothing but joy."

Emelaigne manages a smile before her mother sweeps out of the room, but as I make to follow her, my sister grabs my arm. "One moment Lucette," she starts, her affected smile fading into earnestness. "Are…are you sure that he doesn't love you anymore? That's actually what I'm worried about."

I ponder that for a moment before answering. "What did he say when you asked him that question?" I cannot see her _not_ asking Fritz.

"He…said that it was different now," she admits, "that he cared about you differently than he had once. But if he had truly loved _you_ once, as his first love, I…I can't see how that could have just disappeared."

"Sometimes," I tell my sister, "one kind of love turns into another kind of love. I wouldn't say that his feelings for me disappeared so much as they just…changed."

"That…that can happen to people?" Emelaigne asks, wide eyed.

I smile at her. "It happened to me, Emelaigne. Believe it or not, I actually got my first kiss from Rod." Her eyes open wide, and her mouth drops open at that, but I continue. "I've never told him that. My feelings concerning him changed, and I love him like a brother now…just like I love you as a sister. Fritz's feelings changed too…he remains very protective of me, and I suspect that he always will. He just needed to know that I was with someone that would protect me as ferociously as he would before he could let me go to seek his own happiness elsewhere. And he found that it you."

"But…but you love Waltz," my sister stammers. "You are in love with your husband."

I nod. "Yes, I am."

"And you used to love _Rod_?" she asks incredulously. "He was your first love?"

"If you recall," I tell her with a smile, "I told the both of you that Waltz had not been my first choice, but that he had been my best choice. I love Rod like a brother now, and Fritz cares for me as if I was a sister…if one he will take orders from."

And my sister's face relaxes, and she nods. "Thank you, Lucette. I…I just needed to know that the man I love wouldn't be wishing that I was you instead of me."

I laugh quietly at her. "But it sounds like he just told you the exact same thing himself." Concerning that his feelings had changed, if not my former relationship with Rod.

"He did," Emelaigne admits, "but it just makes so much more sense when you explained it just now!"

I hug my sister as carefully as her mother had, and take her with me out of her room toward the throne room where the ceremony will be held. I escort her to a side room where she will wait until all the guests are seated, and the wedding starts. "Be happy," I tell her as I leave her, and she gives me a genuine smile in response.

After I shut the door, I turn around and find my husband waiting for me. "There you are," he tells me, smiling at me while he offers me his arm so we can enter the throne room and find our seats. "I suppose by definition Emelaigne has to be the most beautiful woman in the room tonight, but I've never thought that anyone else ever compared with your own radiance."

I return my husband's smile as I take his arm. "And you keep giving me reason for that 'radiance,'" I tell him, referencing what we have not yet told our family, not wanting to pull attention away from Emelaigne's big day.

Waltz shrugs. "Little Genaro is going to get spoiled if he doesn't learn to share attention soon."

And I have to laugh as I walk with my husband towards the doors where the final guests are being escorted to their places for the wedding. Our baby boy is growing like a weed, and receiving so much attention his nursemaid must put a sign on the nursery door to signify when the baby is taking his naps. It is growing even more important that he get his naps, as he is getting his first tooth and is becoming cranky over it. But he is whole and healthy, and I couldn't be happier. When his sister arrives, I hope he adjusts well.

We enter the throne room that has been beautifully decorated for the occasion, and take our seats in the front row. Waltz does not let go of my hand when we sit, and sighs contentedly. "You know, I can't think of a single thing that's missing."

I smile at him again. "Oh, I think you have one little project that still needs doing," I tell my husband.

He blinks. "And what might that be?"

"Waltz, remember now on my next birthday…since we skipped the last one…you still have to teach me that trick with the lilies."

…

 _Author's note: I'd like to thank you all for reading this work, and give a special thank you to those of you that have taken the time to review! I will still check for and answer new reviews as I can, and any questions you might have, so feel free to continue to comment. It has been a fairly long story,_ so _much fun to write, and I hope all of you have enjoyed reading!_

 _And yes…this is actually the end this time. I admit that I'm a sucker for happy endings._


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